“It's our loot!" he yelled, standing on his tiptoes so he could get in Clarisse's face. "If you don't like it, you can kiss my quiver!”

“Its our loot. If you don't like it, you can kiss my quiver”

“If you don't like it you can kiss my quiver”

“I rise up on my tiptoes. He's already bending his head down, moving his lips toward mine. And then, well, I haven't exactly studied this, but I'm pretty sure that ours is not the most expert kiss in Sualan history. It's a little hard to figure out how we should tilt our heads so our noses don't bump. But this kiss is a promise, a vow. Come to think of it, it doesn't really matter that ours is not the most expert kiss in Sualan history. It's still the best.”

“But because two can play at this game, I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Right on his bruise.”

“Just as primitive man believed himself to stand face to face with demons and believed that could he but know their names he would become their master, so is contemporary man faced by this incomprehensible, which disorders his calculations. "If I can but grasp it, if I can but cognise it", so he thinks, "I can make it my servant.”