“O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art as glorious to this night, being o'er my head, as is a winged messenger of heavenUnto the white-upturned wond'ring eyesOf mortals fall back to gaze on him.”

“Tea! Thou soft, thou sober,sage and venerable liquid ...to whose glorious insipidity,I owe the happiest moments of my life,let me fall prostrate.”

“You're gonna fall now,' I heard Angel say in a normal voice. I swung my head to see gravely watching an Eraser who looked confused, paralyzed. Angel shifted her gaze to the water below. Fear entered the Eraser's eyes, and his wings folded. He dropped like a rock.You're getting scary, you know that?'I said to Angel, not really kidding. I mean, making an Eraser drop right out of the sky just by telling him to - jeez.”

“And if you but listen in the stillness of the night, you shall hear them saying in silence, 'Our God, who art our winged self... we cannot ask thee for aught, for thou knowest our needs before they are born in us; Thou art our needs, and in giving us more of thyself thou givest us all.”

“Thou art my father, thou my author, thou my being gav'st me; whom should I obey but thee, whom follow?”

“thou art the best o' the cut-throats”