“He felt he was about to experience again some ancient, delicious childhood moment that the steam calliope's sour hollowness, the stitching hurdy-gurdy accompaniment, and the drum-and-cymbal crash brought almost to the margin of his grasp.”

“When it comes to letting the world in on the secrets of his heart, he has about as much shrinking reticence as a steam calliope.”

“He was desperate to tell his news to some other cat; he almost felt that if a mouse crossed his path he would stop to inform it that it was about to be eaten by a ThunderClan deputy.”

“The merry-go-round was running, yes, but...It was running backward.The small calliope inside the carousel machinery rattle-snapped its nervous-stallion shivering drums, clashed its harvest-moon cymbals, toothed its castanets, and throatily choked and sobbed its reeds, whistles, and baroque flutes.”

“Next moment he was standing erect on the rock again, with that smile on his face and a drum beating within him. It was saying, "To die will be an awfully big adventure.”

“And as horrible as that felt in this moment, it was almost a relief. Because he didn't need to worry about loss if he never bothered to love anyone.”