“noone knows and noone seeswe lovers doing what we pleasebut people stop and point at theseten milk bottles a-turning into cheese”

“Do not belong to the past dawns,but to the noons of future”

“For what is the point ofhaving something lovely if you never share it?It would be like having a poem, a beautiful wild poem that noone else has, and burning it.”

“Success. I turned back to my sandwich, only to find that it wasn’t there anymore. Maybe because it had been hijacked. “Give me that!” I told the vamp, who was holding it firmly against his chest, a determined look on his face. “What ees zat?” he demanded, eyeing my prize. “Cheese.” I held it up. “Zat ees not cheese.” “How do you know?” “Eet is orange.” “A lot of cheese is orange.” “Non! No cheese ees that color. Cheese comes from zee milk. Zee milk, eet ees white. When ’ave you seen milk that looks like zat?” I held up the square of little slices and pointed at the bold-faced label. “Processed American Cheese.” He snatched the package, without letting go of his hostage. And eyed it warily. “Eet says ‘cheese food.’” He looked up, obviously perplexed. “What ees thees? Zee cheese, it does not eat.”

“What should I do?""Throw up in your typewriter every morning.""Yeah.""Clean up every noon.”

“By noon,the tide had turned. The drakars emblazoned with wolf and dragon joined the fleet of the Hawk as they set sail for the city of the king.”