“Last hopeless chances have got to work. Nothing makes sense otherwise. You might as well not be alive.”

“I mean, it's a good job we've got a last desperate million-to-one chance to rely on, or we'd really be in trouble!”

“But…but you can’t treat religion as a sort of buffet, can you? I mean, you can’t say yes please, I’ll have some of the Celestial Paradise and a helping of the Divine Plan but go easy on the kneeling and none of the Prohibition of Images, they give me wind. Its table d´hôte or nothing, otherwise…well, it would be silly.”

“That’s what being alive is, Thing! It’s being badly prepared for everything! Because you only get one chance, Thing!”

“It was like rising slowly out of a pink cloud, or a magnificent dream which, try as you might, drains out of your mind as the daylight shuffles in, leaving a terrible sense of loss; nothing, you know instinctively, nothing you're going to experience for the rest of the day is going to be one half as good as that dream.”

“Last night there seemed to be a chance. Anything was possible last night. That was the trouble with last nights. They were always followed by this mornings.”

“Legends don't have to make sense. They just have to be beautiful. Or at least interesting.”