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Jan Inge legger armene i kors og kjenner at han rett og slett har fått pupper.

"Hei, du," sier Rudi. "Faens så lite plater det er her. Hva skjer?"
Butikkfyren smiler. "Ja, nei, vi selger ikke så mye cd-er lenger -"
"Selger ikke så mye cd-er?" Rudi hever stemmen. "Nei, men det er vel for satan ikke så rart, dere har jo ikke plater."

Dear Josh, we stopped by to fuck you but you didn't answer the the door. Therefore you are gay. Sincerely Tiffany and Amber.

I'll leave it to you, Sassenach," he said dryly, "to imagine what it feels like to arrive unexpectedly in the midst of a brothel, in possession of a verra large sausage.

I do know it, my own. Let me tell ye in your sleep how much I love you. For there's no so much I can be saying to ye while ye wake, but the same poor words, again and again. While ye sleep in my arms, I can say things to ye that would be daft and silly waking, and your dreams will know the truth of them. Go back to sleep, mo duinne.

Babies are soft. Anyone looking at them can see the tender, fragile skin and know it for the rose-leaf softness that invites a finger's touch. But when you live with them and love them, you feel the softness going inward, the round-cheeked flesh wobbly as custard, the boneless splay of the tiny hands. Their joints are melted rubber, and even when you kiss them hard, in the passion of loving their existence, your lips sink down and seem never to find bone. Holding them against you, they melt and mold, as though they might at any moment flow back into your body.

But from the very start, there is that small streak of steel within each child. That thing that says "I am," and forms the core of personality.

In the second year, the bone hardens and the child stands upright, skull wide and solid, a helmet protecting the softness within. And "I am" grows, too. Looking at them, you can almost see it, sturdy as heartwood, glowing through the translucent flesh.

The bones of the face emerge at six, and the soul within is fixed at seven. The process of encapsulation goes on, to reach its peak in the glossy shell of adolescence, when all softness then is hidden under the nacreous layers of the multiple new personalities that teenagers try on to guard themselves.

In the next years, the hardening spreads from the center, as one finds and fixes the facets of the soul, until "I am" is set, delicate and detailed as an insect in amber.

I talk to you as I talk to my own soul," he said, turning me to face him. He reached up and cupped my cheek, fingers light on my temple. "And Sassenach," he whispered, "Your face is my heart.

Togreise
som sjølve livsvegen
nokre går av
nye kjem på.

Ekdal: Hm, det er klein moro å gå morgentur alene, du.

Relling: Mens jeg husker det, herr Werle junior, - bruk ikke det utenlandske ord: idealer. Vi har jo det gode norske ord: løgne.

Gjentagelsen er alltid bare forventningen om gjentagelse, ikke selve gjentagelsen.

I never gossip. I observe. And then relay my observations to practically everyone.

Det er ganske spennende med livet iblant.

-Jeg tror jeg er forelsket, sa Benny.
-Jeg vet at jeg er trøtt, sa Allan.