“We're all watching him. It's the one thing we can really do, and it is not for nothing: if he were to falter, fail, or die, what would become of us? No wonder he's like a boot, hard on the outside, giving shape to a pulp of tenderfoot. That's just a wish. I've been watching him for some time and he's given no evidence, of softness.But watch out, Commander, I tell him in my head. I've got my eye on you. One false move and I'm dead.Still, it must be hell, to be a man, like that.It must be just fine.It must be hell.It must be very silent.”

“Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.I refuse to say this. If it means I will have to forgive Mrs. Smeath or else go to Hell when I die, I'm ready to go. Jesus must have known how hard it is to forgive, that was why he put this in. He was always putting in things that were impossible to do really, such as giving away all your money.”

“What do you want me to do?” he whispers into the empty air.It’s hard to know.Oh Jimmy, you were so funny.Don’t let me down.From habit he lifts his watch; it shows him its blank face.Zero hour, Snowman thinks. Time to go.”

“If it's a story I'm telling, then I have control over the ending...But if it's a story, even in my head, I must be telling it to someone.You don't tell a story only to yourself. There's always someone else. Even when there is no one.”

“All Creatures know that some must dieThat all the rest may take and eat;Sooner or later, all transformTheir blood to wine, their flesh to meat.But Man alone seeks Vengefulness,And writes his abstract Laws on stone;For this false Justice he has made,He tortures limb and crushes bone.Is this the image of a god?My tooth for yours, your eye for mine?Oh, if Revenge did move the starsInstead of Love, they would not shine.”

“Once in a while, Jimmy would make up a word but he never once got caught out. ... He should have been pleased by his success with these verbal fabrications, but instead he was depressed by it. The memos telling him he'd done a good job meant nothing to him; all they proved was that no one was capable of appreciating how clever he had been. He came to understand why serial killers sent helpful clues to the police.”

“He has to find more and better ways of occupying his time. His time, what a bankrupt idea, as if he's been given a box of time belonging to him alone, stuffed to the brim with hours and minutes that he can spend like money. Trouble is, the box has holes in it and the time is running out, no matter what he does with it.”