“From the shadow of domes in the city of domes,A snowflake, a blizzard of one, weightless, entered your roomAnd made its way to the arm of the chair where you, looking upFrom your book, saw it the moment it landed. That's allThere was to it.”

“Wolfe was drinking beer and looking at pictures of snowflakes in a book someone had sent him from Czechoslovakia......Wolfe seemed absorbed in the pictures. Looking at him, I said to myself, "He's in a battle with the elements. He's fighting his way through a raging blizzard, just sitting there comfortably looking at pictures of snowflakes. That's the advantage of being an artist, of having imagination." I said aloud, "You mustn't go to sleep, sir, it's fatal. You freeze to death.”

“... a book is not made of sentences laid end to end, but of sentences built, if an image helps, into arcades or domes.”

“Do not put your head inside sand dome,someone will possibly kick you”

“Close your eyes and click your heals three times...because there's no place like Dome.”

“I was the place where you anchored. I was the deep water where you could be weightless. I was the surface where you saw your own reflection. You scooped me up in your hands.”