“Clearly it is God's will to place me in such a predicament," declared Philias loudly to a procession of stunned passers-by, "So God can jolly well point me towards salvation.”

“One final glance back at the hotel. Philias Switchmoat the Third, stepping from the curb and in to a puddle. Disappeared.”

“I am not an outsider. I am an insider who discovered that everyone else had gone out.”

“The return of the rain, beating out time on London's rooftops and pavements. Early morning Zombies sheltering beneath copies of the Standard whilst others ran screaming for cover in doorways because water from the heavens is holy and melts the undead.”

“Please stop shaking your rain water in my direction. What next? Are you going to come over here, cock your leg and urinate upon my person?”

“The vibrations on the air are the breath of God speaking to man's soul. Music is the language of God. We musicians are as close to God as man can be. We hear his voice, we read his lips, we give birth to the children of God, who sing his praise. That's what musicians are.”

“These moments of joy are fleeting. We cannot reach out and grab onto God. When we try to grab onto him, he remains always just beyond our fingertips. Only God can reach across the abyss and touch us . . . One might ask. “How do mystics pray?” The answer is clear: mystics pray by keeping watch. It is not the consolations that ultimately speak to us of God. No, it is not the consolations. Rather, it is paradoxically, the waiting. As we learn to wait, we become awake. In the very act of keeping vigil, we become awake to God’s presence.”