Like a dead man, only friction could make him warm or violence make him mobile.

Betty took him for a walk in the zoo and he was amused by her evident belief in the curative power of animals. She seemed to think that it must steady him to look at a buffalo.

As he stood smiling, a little wave crept up out of the general welter and splashed at his feet for attention. It was Betty.

Tod didn’t laugh at the man’s rhetoric. He knew it was unimportant. What mattered were his messianic rage and the emotional response of his hearers. They sprang to their feet, shaking their fists and shouting.

He felt like a bottle that is being slowly filled with warm, dirty warter.

We must take the long view – every defeat is a victory in a war of attrition.

All order is doomed, yet the battle is worth while.

A button machine makes buttons, no matter what the power used, foot, steam or electricity. They, no matter what the motivating force, death, love or God, made jokes.

But whether he was happy or not was hard to say. Probably he was neither, just as a plant is neither.

Once he had tried to get fired by recommending suicide in his column. All that Shrike had said was : “Remember, please, that you job is to increase the circulation of our paper. Suicide, it is only reasonable to think, must defeat this purpose”.