They all looked very much like the residents of any small valley to which you've never been.
I think really good books can be read by anybody.
And some looked even more like each other than they did like themselves.
And now," he continued, speaking to Milo, "where were you on the night of July 27?" "What does that have to do with it?" asked Milo. "It's my birthday, that's what," said the policeman as he entered "Forgot my birthday" in his little book. "Boys always forget other people's birthdays.
Just as I thought: boys are the cause of everything.
...it's just as bad to live in a place where what you do see isn't there as it is to live in one where what you don't see is.