...Indians made very inadequate slaves. They would not give up their gods and preferred to starve themselves to death rather than submit to indignity. The Negroes on the other hand, being from different parts of West Africa, had no common language, so it was a simple matter to confuse them and to brutalise them into being enlightened by Christianity.

Den dårlige nyheten, sa Julius og senket stemmen litt. -Den dårlige nyheten er at vi nok var såpass fulle i går at vi glemte å slå av viften i fryserommet. -Og så? sa Allan. -Og så ... er han der inne temmelig død av seg nå. Allan klødde seg bekymret i nakken før han bestemte seg ikke å la den slags slendrian formørke dagen. -Det var ille, sa han. - Men jeg må si du har lyktes perfekt med eggene, ikke for harde og ikke for bløte.

Allan svarte at han rent fysisk ikke hadde noen kontroll over hvor han befant seg, men at han ikke følte seg villfaren i sjelen av den grunn. Allan hadde alltid tenkt som så når det gjaldt troen, at når man tross alt ikke kunne vite sikkert, var det liten vits i å gå rundt å gjette.

Allan var ikke langsint. Han tok den utstrakte hånden og smilte overbærende. Derimot var han ikke enig i at det i sin alminnelighet var slik at det var bedre med sent enn aldri. Hans far hadde for eksempel blitt tilhenger av tsar Nikolai dagen før den russiske revolusjon.

Men mitt hjerte sa: Jeg taler ikke om dine mord, og anklager deg ikke for dem, skjønt jeg natt og dag dunker inn i din bevissthet: skyldig, skyldig. Tusener og atter tusener er døde for din skyld, Sinuhe. De er døde av sult og pest, for våpen og av sår. De er døde under kampvognenes hjul, og de har vansmektet på ørkenens hærveier. For din skyld er barnet død i sin mors skjød, for din skyld har stokker slått ned på krøkete rygger, for din skyld tramper uretten på rettferdigheten, for din skyld seirer griskhet over godhet, for din skyld hersker røvere over verden. I sannhet, utallige er døde for din skyld, Sinuhe. Deres hud er av vekslende farge, og deres tunger taler ord av forskjellige slag, men de er allikevel uskyldige, Sinuhe, fordi de ikke hadde din kunnskap, og alle som er døde og som fremdeles dør, er dine brødre og dør for din skyld, og du er den ene skyldige. Derfor hører du deres gråt i dine drømmer, Sinuhe, og derfor er det deres gråt som gjør at maten mister sin smak i din munn, Sinuhe, og derfor legger deres gråt all din glede øde.

It's like when you decide to cheat because you know you can't win. Usually you're found out and you can't cheat anymore. But sometimes, the cheater gets away with it. And if, instead of playing with dice or cards, the game consists of playing with life and death, then the cheater turns into someone very dangerous indeed.

Milde himmel, hvem ville ant det? Det ville jeg aldri ha trodd. Det hadde vært en godt skjult hemmelighet for meg: Det norske kjøkken var det beste i verden!

Jeg så meg om i skapet etter mat. Jeg fant kartonger med Seven Oceans standard nødrasjoner fra det fjerne, eksotiske Bergen i Norge.

For meg er et hjem ukrenkelig. Når vi lukker døren bak oss, er det for å stenge verden ute. Faglige problemer. Masete kolleger. Innpåslitne kvinner. Skruppelløse mordere.

The problem with the valley was this. The Monk currently believed that the valley and everything in the valley and around it, including the Monk itself and the Monk's horse, was a uniform shade of pale pink. This made for a certain difficulty in distinguishing any one thing from any other thing, and therefore made doing anything or going anywhere impossible, or at least difficult and dangerous. Hence the immobility of the Monk and the boredom of the horse, which had had to put up with a lot of silly things in its time but was secretly of the opinion that this was one of the silliest.

This is because I do not always do what I am told. And this is because when people tell you what to do it is usually confusing and does not make sense.

What actually happens when you die is that your brain stops working and your body rots, like Rabbit did when he died and we buried him in the earth at the bottom of the garden. And all his molecules were broken down into other molecules and they went into the earth and were eaten by worms and went into the plants and if we go and dig in the same place in 10 years there will be nothing except his skeleton left. And in 1,000 years even his skeleton will be gone. But that this all right because he is a part of the flowers and the apple tree and the hawthorn bush now.

People say that you always have to tell the truth. But they do not mean this because you are not allowed to tell old people that they are old and you are not allowed to tell people if they smell funny or if a grown-up has made a fart. And you are not allowed to say "I don't like you" unless that person has been horrible to you.

The mail on the doormat consisted of the usual things: a rude letter threatening to take away his American Express card, an invitation to apply for an American Express card, and a few bills of the more hysterical and unrealistic type. He couldn't understand why they kept sending them. The cost of the postage seemed merely to be good money thrown after bad. He shook his head in wonderment at the malevolent incompetence of the world, thew the mail away, entered the kitchen and approached the fridge with caution.

A minute or two later Dirk paused to consider his best strategy. Rather than arrive five hours late and flustered it would be better all round if he were to arrive five hours and a few extra minutes late, but triumphantly in command. "Pray God I am not too soon!" would be a good opening line as he swept in, but it needed a good follow-through as well, and he wasn't sure what it should be.

Gordon hadn't realised up till this point that it was possible for a ghost to faint. He realised it now and did it. He was woken a couple of hours later by the sound of his gas cooker exploding.

In the great debate that has raged for centuries about what, if anything, happens to you after death, be it heaven, hell, purgatory or extinction, one thing has never been in doubt - that you would at least know the answer when you were dead.

Gordon Way was dead, but he simply hadn't the slightest idea what he was meant to do about it. It wasn't a situation he had encountered before.

An odd thought suddenly struck him. It took him by considerable surprise, but he couldn't really see what was wrong with it.

I never had intimate friends, and the few who came close are in New York. By which I mean they're dead, because that's where I suppose condemned souls go in order not to endure the truth of their past lives.

Paven lever flott i Latinum, han lever av sin avlatssum Drikker vin av slepne glass, la meg overta hans plass. Men nei, han er en stakkars hund, ingen mø får kysse hans munn, Ensom i sengen han sover, så den plassen hopper jeg over!

Sultanen lever i sus og dus, hans bolig er et kjempehus Med jomfruer så underskjønne, la meg få hans herredømme. Men nei, han er en stakkars mann, må leve i pakt med sin Koran Vin for ham er forbuden drikke, så sultantronen frister ikke!

Ikke et øyeblikk det synes som, noen lykke til dem kom, men la meg i deres spor trave: som halvveis sultan, halvveis pave, jeg ville kysse jomfruer fra vettet - en troende sultan gjør jo dette, og skåle i vin med brødre så kjære - en riktig god pave vil jeg være!