“Yesterday evening Mrs Arundel insisted on my going to the window, and looking at the glorious sky, as she called it. Of course I had to look at it. She is one of those absurdly pretty Philistines to whom one can deny nothing. And what was it? It was simply a very second-rate Turner, a Turner of a bad period, with all the painter’s worst faults exaggerated and over-emphasized.”

“I supposed that if I had a third eye in the middle of my forehead she would want one of those too. “You don’t want a fake orange tan, Munchkin.”“Yes, I do,” she insisted. “It’s pretty.”Alex was amused. “Oh, I think so too. Very pretty and informative. I have always wondered what the female Oompa-Loompas looked like.”

“Mrs. Turner gripped my baby finger.It's amazing how a man can feel sex anywhere on his body.”

“She might even be your lovely school-teacher who is reading these words to you at this very moment. Look carefully at that teacher. Perhaps she is smiling at the absurdity of such a suggestion. Don't let that put you off. It could be part of cleverness.I am not, of course, telling you for one second that your teacher actually is a witch. All I am saying is that she might be one. It is most unlikely. But—here comes the big "but"—not impossible.”

“You're beautiful, but you're empty...One couldn't die for you. Of course, an ordinary passerby would think my rose looked just like you. But my rose, all on her own, is more important than all of you together, since she's the one I've watered. Since she's the one I put under glass, since she's the one I sheltered behind the screen. Since she's the one for whom I killed the caterpillars (except the two or three butterflies). Since she's the one I listened to when she complained, or when she boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing at all. Since she's my rose.”

“Was that a bad lady, Papa?" she asked eagerly.No."But she looked bad."There are very few bad people. There are just a lot of people that are unlucky."But she was all painted and..."She was one who had seen better days.”