"I can’t live the buttoned-down life like you. I want it all! The terrifying lows…the dizzying highs…the creamy middles! Sure, I might offend a few of the blue-noses with my cocky stride and musky odors. Oh, I’ll never be the darling of the so-called city fathers, who cluck their tongues, stroke their beards, and talk about ‘What’s to be done with this Homer Simpson?’"
"Your doctor is off his nut. I don’t believe in doctors, anyway. There’s a doctor lives right down the street here. Treated a man for yellow jaundice for nine years. Then found out he was a Jap."
— sweet merciful crap, W.C. Fields
"There’s always an adrenalin rush for Toby when she’s handling bees. It could go badly: she might smell wrong one day and find herself the centre of an angry, stinging horde. Sometimes she feels she could wash herself all over in bees, like a bubble bath; but that’s the euphoria of bee handling, like an altitude high or the rapture of the deep. It would be stupid to actually try it."