“Ah, the patter of little feet around the house. There's nothing like having a midget for a butler. ”
“Outside the drizzling rain had begun again. It pattered around the house, and on the roofs and eaves, like a million, tiny, stealthy feet: softly, as though the night were teeming with a host of minute, dark beings.”
“There's nothing to match curling up with a good book when there's a repair job to be done around the house. ”
“Ah, good conversation — there's nothing like it, is there? The air of ideas is the only air worth breathing.”
“I have a little accent. I speak with a trace of midget.”
“The house I grew up in is one of a kind. It’s a bibliophile’s fantasy, and if the Library of Congress had a little brother who was a midget, you could find him residing in my parents’ house.”