“God knows what possessed me, but having that science book in my hand propelled me to immediate action. So I hit her with it.”

“And if you can believe it…she slapped me again. “What the hell is wrong with you? Stop hitting me!” I finally looked up at her, but she was a blur. She hit me so hard my damn eyes were watering (I was not crying – eyes water. I think we all know I’m a badass and I don’t cry).”

“I like best to have one book in my hand, and a stack of others on the floor beside me, so as to know the supply of poppy and mandragora will not run out before the small hours.”

“If I ever meet myself,' said Zaphod, 'I'll hit myself so hard I won't know what's hit me.”

“Hugo has been infinitely tender with me, but while he talks of June I think of our hands locked together. She does not reach the same sexual center of my being that man reaches; she does not touch that. What, then, has she moved in me? I have wanted to possess her as if I were a man, but I have also wanted her to love me with the eyes, the hands, the senses that only women have. It is a soft and subtle penetration.”

“What blurt is this about virtue and about vice?Evil propels me and reform of evil propels me, I stand indifferent,My gait is no fault-finder's or rejecter's gait,I moisten the roots of all that has grown.”