“...As we locked the front door behind us, she said, "How do you keep getting in without my knowing it? Did Jill give you a key without mentioning it to me?""Trade secret," I said."What trade is that? Cat burglar?""Yes, although I prefer the technical term.""What's that?""Music promoter.”

“Yes?" she said. "And who might you be?"I bowed, because it seemed the appropriate response. "I might be Jill's friend." I said. "Or I might be an Israeli terrorist looking for PLO supporters. Or possibly a burglar trying to steal your jewels to support my laudanum habit. Or even a neighbor complaining about the volume. That is "Heart of Uncle," isn't it? It really ought to be louder.”

“I like your coat," she announced, as if her approval of my dress were the supreme prize in a good-taste contest."Does that mean I get to see Jill?"She considered this. "Perhaps it does," she said."Just what are your intentions concerning my roommate?""I'm going to kidnap her and hold her for ransom.""Really?" she said, appearing delighted. "How splendid.""Or else I'll put her in a cage and show her for money, but I think you'd be more suitable for that role."She nodded. "Yes. The kidnapping is a much better idea." She stood straight and walked with exaggerated grace into the living room. There was a very nice wooden stairway, curving back on itself with a stained-glass window at the landing. She called, "Jill! Your kidnapper is here," and gave me a big smile."Aren't you going to come in?" she said."Only if you want me to. We kidnappers are very polite.""Oh do, by all means.”

“I will do you one last favour, in the name and memory of the figment you have replaced. I will clarify a misapprehension of yours. Circumstances did not conspire against me. I was not led into anything, nor did I fall. I chose my life and my course. I chose to do wrong in the hope that right might come of it. I regret it. I would choose differently now. But the choice was mine. Deny that, falsify it, tinsel it over with pious, pitying justification, and you deny everything I am and every scrap of what little good I have been able to do in my life. Good or bad, give me credit for what I have done. I would rather go honestly to Hell, admitting that I leaped knowingly into error and folly, than enter into the sweetest Heaven men can dream of by whining that I had been pushed.”

“I have something to tell you.""How, you have something to tell me?""You have understood me exactly.""Well, I am listening.""Listening? Then, you wish me to tell you?""Yes, that is it. I am listening, and therefore I wish you to tell me.""Shall I tell you now?""No.”

“There was a sergeant at a desk. I knew he was a sergeant because I recognized the marks on his uniform, and I knew it was a desk because it's always a desk. There's always someone at a desk, except when it's a table that functions as a desk. You sit behind a desk, and everyone knows you're supposed to be there, and that you're doing something that involves your brain. It's an odd, special kind of importance. I think everyone should get a desk; you can sit behind it when you feel like you don't matter.”

“I’ve heard it said: ‘By his home you shall know him’; and we all know that we must pay attention to anyone who reverses the subject and auxiliary verb in his sentence.”