“Nobody speaks smut to my wife and gets away with it.”

“I have this disease late at night sometimes, involving alcohol and the telephone. I get drunk, and I drive my wife away with a breath like mustard gas and roses. And then, speaking gravely and elegantly into the telephone, I ask the telephone operators to connect me with this friend or that one, from whom I have not heard in years.”

“I met my wife through playing golf. She is French and couldn't speak English and I couldn't speak French, so there was little chance of us getting involved in any boring conversations - that's why we got married really quickly.”

“Really? Brixton? Where nobody speaks fucking English?” Okay, that wasn’t quite fair, and supposedly Brixton was getting “gentrified.” “Remember Guns of Brixton, the Clash?”

“Well, my friend, if I may be blunt, all this time you have talked about how you walked away from your American life. How you walked away from your wife. And the reasons you have put forth to me about why and how your children would be better if you left. You may see your wife and children at anytime, however. They are only a sea away. This is the American loss I speak of. - A portion of Abasi's explanation of how ridiculous westerners can be.”

“Tumbling into a dark, Lewis Carroll labyrinth of filth, pursuing a white rabbit of smut!”