“Perhaps the Ci-ty dreamed of an-other, en-emy city, float-ing across the sea to invade the es-tuary . . . or of waves of darkness . . . waves of fire . . . Perhaps of being swallowed again, by the immense, the si-lent Mother Con-tinent? It's none of my business, city dreams. . . . But what if the Ci-ty were a growing neo-plasm, across the centuries, always chang-ing to meet exactly the chang-ing shape of its very worst, se-cret fears?”
“My final word: don't follow your dreams . . . chase them. With a stick, or a shovel, or whatever you have handy. Get that [bleep]ing dream!”
“I'm telling you, it's fu**ing hard to be classy”
“I'm no doormat. At worst, I'm a very attractive accent rug, because if I get stained or damaged, someone is going to f---ing die.”
“F***ing triffids.”
“There's a million was of sayingwords that mean you won't be staying.But couldn't we just skip the bye-ing?We could stay and keep on hi-ing!”