“They were high up. If he fell, he'd have time to hum three verses of "She Has No Ankles That I Can See" before he hit. Maybe an extra round of the chorus.”

“He spoke to her, though, if only through his verse. One night in the banqueting hall, just before a ball, he responded to requests for a verse by raising his glass high. Though he spoke to them all his eyes were on her."Tis not that I am weary grownOf being yours, and yours alone,But with what face can I inclineTo damn you to be only mine?"She walked out before she heard the rest.”

“That was how she saw the storyteller for the last time - in an absolutely silent world, in a staircase. He'd hit his target.When she fell into darkness, she knew that she would never see him again.She'd love him to the very end.”

“Marvin started his ironical humming again. Zaphod hit him and he shut up.”

“All he has is a mangled ankle. I have Americans.”

“He really would have done all that for her, you see, and done it believing he'd burn in hell forever for doing it. He hadn't done it, and wouldn't had made her his anyway, but you see why he'd have figured it did. Or maybe I saw it anyway, at the time. He was a maniac and a monster, but people don't love like that anymore. Or maybe it's only the maniacs and monsters who do. I don't know. ”