“Oh, a very sorry people, yes,Did I find here.Oh, they had no music,And they had no beer.And, oh, everywhereWhere they tried to perchBelonged to Castle Sugar, Incorporated,Or the Catholic church.”

“Here's all she had to say about death: "Oh my, oh my.”

“Oh, God — the lives people try to lead.Oh, God — what a world they try to lead them in.”

“Oh," said Castle. "Him." He shrugged. "People have to talk about something just to keep their voice boxes in working order, so they'll have good voice boxes in case there's ever anything really meaningful to say.”

“And Castle nodded sagely. 'So this is a picture of the meaninglessness of it all! I couldn't agree more.''Do you really agree?' I asked. 'A minute ago you said something about Jesus.''Who?' said Castle.'Jesus Christ?''Oh,' said Castle. 'Him.' He shrugged. 'People have to talk about something just to keep their voice boxes in working order, so they'll have good voice boxes in case there's ever anything really meaningful to say.''I see.' I knew I wasn't going to have an easy time writing a popular article about him. I was going to have to concentrate on his saintly deeds and ignore entirely the satanic things he thought and said.”

“Oh happy Meat. Oh happy Soul. Oh happy Rabo Karabekian.”

“Well finish your story anyway."Where was I?"The bubonic plague. The bulldozer was stalled by corpses."Oh, yes. Anyway, one sleepless night I stayed up with Father while he worked. It was all we could do to find a live patient to treat. In bed after bed after bed we found dead people.And Father started giggling," Castle continued.He couldn't stop. He walked out into the night with his flashlight. He was still giggling. He was making the flashlight beam dance over all the dead people stacked outside. He put his hand on my head and do you know what that marvelous man said to me?" asked Castle.Nope."'Son,' my father said to me, 'someday this will all be yours.”