“You couldn’t leave words lying around where our enemies might find them.”

“Where do the words gowhen we have said them?”

“Arboreal, a fine word. Our arboreal ancestors, Crake used to say. Used to shit on their enemies from above while perched in trees. All planes and rockets and bombs are simply elaborations on that primate instinct.”

“In front of us, to the right, is the store where we order dresses. Some people call them habits, a good word for them. Habits are hard to break. ”

“i)We are hard on each otherand call it honesty,choosing our jagged truthswith care and aiming them acrossthe neutral table.The things we say are true; it is our crooked aims, our choicesturn them criminal.ii)Of course your liesare more amusing:you make them new each time.Your truths, painful and boringrepeat themselves over & over perhaps because you ownso few of themiii)A truth should exist,it should not be usedlike this. If I love youis that a fact or a weapon?iv)Does the body liemoving like this, are these touches, hairs, wet soft marble my tongue runs overlies you are telling me?Your body is not a word,it does not lie or speak truth either.It is onlyhere or not here.”

“Good writing takes place at intersections, at what you might call knots, at places where the society is snarled or knotted up.”

“You might even provide a Heaven for them. We need You for that. Hell we can make for ourselves.”