“It's all her fancy: she never executes nobody, you know.”

“She knows her place in this world. She can tear down its walls, and still nobody knows her name. - Naomi”

“She never stumbles, she's got no place to fall. She's nobody's child, the law can't touch her at all.”

“It's all his fancy, that: he hasn't got no sorrow, you know. Come on!”

“I'm fond of her."Oh yeah? Fond are you? I've heard of fond. I expect old erection here" - she pointed to the tube of DNA - "was fond of his victim. Fond is a prude's word, Ben. You fancy her. That's what you say. You fancy Miss Library something painful. And who knows?" She grinned, gap-toothed, like the Wife of Bath. "Maybe she fancies you.”

“What is his sorrow?' She asked the Gryphon. And the Gryphon answered, very nearly in the same words as before, 'It's all his fancy, that: he hasn't got no sorrow, you know'.”