All his life, Klaus had believed that if you read enough books, you could solve any problem, but now he wasn't so sure.

But the law is an odd thing. For instance, one country in Europe has a law that requires all its bakers to sell bread at the exact same price. A certain island has a law that forbids anyone from removing its fruit. And a town not too far from where you live has a law that bars me from coming within five miles of its borders.

Why not rise from the grave and terrorize a little instead of staying buried and dead in the cemetery?

How can someone so wonderful do something so terrible?

I’m not a romantic, I’m a half-wit. Only stupid people would think I’m smart. I’m not something anyone should know. I’m a lunatic wandering around for scraps, I’m like every single miserable moron I’ve scorned and pretended I didn’t recognize. I’m all of them, every last ugly thing in a bad last-minute costume. I’m not different, not at all, not different from any other speck of a thing. I’m a blemished blemish, a ruined ruin, a stained wreck so failed I can’t see what I used to be.

Bad circumstances have a way of ruining things that would otherwise be pleasant.

Just because something is traditional is no reason to do it, of course.