“About one haff the pitty in this world iz not the result ov sorrow, but satisfackshun that it aint our hoss that haz had hiz leg broke.”

“I hav often heard ov men who had bekum disgusted with the world, and retired into solitude; but i hav never heard ov a kommitty ov our fust citizens waiting on them and asking them tew kum bak.”

“Misanthropy don't pay--thare aint no man living whoze hate the world cares one cuss for.”

“Thare iz but phew people in this world underrated.”

“Genuine grief iz like penitence, not klamorous but subdued; sorrow from the hous tops and penitence in a market place shows more ambishun than piety.”

“Then realization had dawned. "Oh, my God, you're the one who hurt Davis, the boy I was with. You saw us together, and you threw him down a gully. He broke both of his legs!"

"He lived?" Gaze narrowing, Lothaire had murmured, "Not for much Longer.”

“We feel much sorrow for you, the elm tree had said. But what kind of sorrow—a real and sincere sorrow, or the superficial and pedantic sorrow of the immortal for a frail and flickering creature that was about to die?”

“I told the doctor I broke my leg in two places. He told me to stop going to those places.”

“He had about the same life expectancy as a three legged hedgehog on a six lane motorway.”

“She could not complain about not having shoes when the person she was talking to had no legs.”