“Don't you ever get tired of asking questions?''Never. They're mother's milk to me.”

“You like sequences,” Fuka-Eri asked, without a question mark. “To me, they’re like Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier. I never get tired of them.”

“Didn't your mother ever tell you," Rob asked, "that you're supposed to play hard to get?" I looked at his lips. I probably don't need to tell you that they're really nice lips, kind of full and strong-looking. "What," I wanted to know, "is that going to get me?”

“I'll tend to her as no mother ever tended a child, a daughter. Nobody will ever get my milk no more except my own children. I never had to give it to nobody else--and the one time I did it was took from me--they held me down and took it. Milk that belonged to my baby.... I know what it is to be without the milk that belongs to you; to have to fight and holler for it, and to have so little left.”

“Why can’t you ever answer a simple question? (Wulf)Ask me a simple question and you will get a simple answer. (Acheron)”

“I was making for that city in the south of which it was said in our village:"There you'll find queer folk! Just think, they never sleep!""And why not?""Because they never get tired.""And why not?""Because they're fools.""Don't fools get tired?""How could fools get tired!"---Children on a Country Road, Contemplation.”