Jean-Luc glanced at the coach. "Who is that man? What is that machine?" "It's a dunking booth." "Ah, I understand." Jean-Luc nodded. "If he dose not drown, then he is a witch" "No, he's just a creep. It's a game.

Lonely? I don't know. They tell me this is cold. I don't know what cold is, because I don't freeze. So I don't know what lonely means either. Bears are made to be solitary.

Reason is a supple nymph, and slippery as a fish by nature. She had as leave give her kiss to an absurdity any day, as to syllogistic truth. The absurdity may turn out truer.

What destroys us most effectively is not a malign fate but our own capacity for self-deception and for degrading our own best self.

Written By George Eliot

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