“It's--my God--like you stretched a tarp across a stadium to turn it into a giant tom-tom and crashed a 747 into it.”

“It's the way God runs the world."Tom thought about this for a moment."He's all right, Doug," said Tom. "He tries.”

“He likes her.""Yuri, no!" Vik said. Yuri turned redder, confirming it. "Yuri, come on, man," Tom cried. Yuri gave a helpless shrug. "Divisions cannot divide human hearts." "Oh God," Vik cried, clapping hands over his ears. "He's even spouting cheesy lines now. Make him stop, Tom!" "I can't!" Tom told him. "My ears... They're bleeding. Bleeding!" "It's a brain hemorrhage! He's murdered us!" Vik said. "Murderer!" Tom cried, fake collapsing onto the ground.Yuri shook his head. "This is not very mature.”

“Tom te tom tom, tom te tom.' zong Frits in zichzelf, 'het gaat slecht, verder gaat het goed.”

“Frank, hunched against a bastard wind knifing in off the Irish Sea, isn’t sure at first where the sound is coming from. It’s barely light and a soft insistent hiss sits below the whining gale, like white-noise feedback at song’s end. He leans a little closer and realises the source is sand rattling against the charred skin stretched tom-tom tight across the dead man’s face.”

“It...It...It's... The peeping tom!!”