“April. Spring was on the land like an itch. The whole countryside seemed to be scratching itself awake—lazily, luxuriously, though occasionally scratching so hard its nails hit bone, that old cold calcium that lies beneath our tingles.”
“A question like “do you love me?” was an itch our doctors told us not to scratch.”
“I enjoy scratching itches on my body with my beard stubble. The worst though is when my lower back itches.”
“My fingernail itches. I need to scratch it with my skin.”
“Philosophy hasn't made any progress? - If somebody scratches the spot where he has an itch, do we have to see some progress? Isn't genuine scratching otherwise, or genuine itching itching? And can't this reaction to an irritation continue in the same way for a long time before a cure for the itching is discovered?”
“Fill what is empty, empty what is full, and scratch where it itches.”