“Blest are thoseWhose blood and judgment are so well commingled,That they are not a pipe for fortune's fingerTo sound what stop she please.”

“What are you prepared to give for your dream? If it is not everything...stop pipe dreaming.”

“Could you stand still please?' Sylvia says in an irritated voice. If she had sweaty balls and an almost-boner she wouldn't be so judgmental. Am I right, or am I right?”

“The blood kept welling up and getting over things so that she couldn’t see what she was doing, which annoyed her; but she knew that theoretical clarity was unattainable in times of action.”

“It's up to brave hearts, sir, to be patient when things are going badly, as well as being happy when they're going well ... For I've heard that what they call fortune is a flighty woman who drinks too much, and, what's more, she's blind, so she can't see what she's doing, and she doesn't know who she's knocking over or who she's raising up.”

“For what is man without desires, without free will, and without the power of choice but a stop in an organ pipe?”