“But that couldn't be... you don't.... That's wrong," she said lamely."You mean morally?" Donal looked utterly struck by the notion. "Morally wrong! Well!" He pretended to ponder and then said earnestly, "I should hope so! Honestly, Jenny-girl, moral sex! Where's the point in that?”

“Jenny-girl, you might say that the motto of the Black family is 'what's another brother?”

“Is the whole thing a folly and a mockery? Am I no better than a eunuch or is the proper man—the man with the right to existence—a raging stallion forever neighing after his neighbor’s womankind? I don't know. And there is nothing to guide us. And if everything is so nebulous about a matter so elementary as the morals of sex, what is there to guide us in the more subtle morality of all other personal contacts, associations, and activities?”

“My question is, how and why would a being who has no soul, and no conscience, and no ability to judge between morality and immorality, suddenly become capable of perceiving it [Spike's attempted rap of Buffy] as a "wrong" which needs to be "righted"?”

“Don't look pleased with yourself. When Will says 'enterprising, ' he means 'morally deficient. '" "No, I mean enterprising, " said Will. "When I mean morally deficient, I say, 'Now, that's something I would have done. ”

“We should never present flesh as somehow morally distinguishable from dairy. To the extent it is morally wrong to eat flesh, it is as morally wrong — and possibly more morally wrong — to consume dairy”

“The room where they were dancing was very dark.... It was queer to be in his arms.... She had known better dancers.... He had looked ill.... Perhaps he was.... Oh, poor Valentine-Elisabeth.... What a funny position!.... The good gramophone played.... Destiny!.... You see, father! ... In his arms! Of course, dancing is not really.... But so near the real thing! So near!... 'Good luck to the special intention!...' She had almost kissed him on the lips ... All but!... Effleurer, the French call it.... But she was not as humble.... He had pressed her tighter.... All these months without.... My lord did me honour.... Good for Malbrouck s'en va-t-en guerre.... He knew she had almost kissed him on the lips.... And that his lips had almost responded.... The civilian, the novelist, had turned out the last light.... Tietjens said, 'Hadn't we better talk?...' She said: 'In my room, then! I'm dog-tired.... I haven't slept for six nights.... In spite of drugs...' He said: 'Yes. Of course! Where else?....”