“After another minute Reuben brought forth the following sentence:"I ha' scranleted two hundred furrows come five o'clock down i' the bute."It was a difficult remark, Flora felt, to which to reply.”

“Yes," Bitterblue said. "I suppose you could convert everything into minutes. Twelve times sixty is seven hundred twenty, and fifteen times fifty is seven hundred fifty. So our seven-hundred-twenty-minute half day equals its seven-hundred-fifty-minute half day. Let's see...Right now, the watch reads a time of nearly twenty-five past two. That's one hundred twenty-five total minutes, which, divided by seven hundred fifty, should equal our time in minutes divided by seven hundred twenty...so, seven hundred twenty times one hundred twenty-five is...give me a moment...ninety thousand...divided by seven hundred fifty...is one hundred twenty...which means...well! The numbers are quite neat, aren't they? It's just about two o'clock. I should go home.”

“Six foot six he stood on the groundHe weighed two hundred and thirty-five poundsBut I saw that giant of a man brought downTo his knees by love”

“He gave a small nod, and I smiled back, and that was it. He understood that I'd understood that he'd understood. It took us one sentence, two looks, and a nod - with another woman it would have been at least five minutes of out-loud talking. Lucky for me I spoke fluent guy.”

“Never run after a man or a bus, there's always another one in five minutes.”

“There is no morality in war', they said, 'but cannibals never killed more in one day that they could eat. In your wars, thousands are killed in a few minutes. Perhaps it might be worth suggesting to you leaders that both parties in your war agree to five minutes of combat. Then let all the parents come to the battlefield and collect the pieces and parts of their children, take them home and mourn and bury them. After that is over, another five minutes of battle might or might not be agreed upon. It is difficult to make sense out of senselessness.”