Her accent's funny, different from mine, different from anyone in Prentisstown's. Her lips make different kinds of outlines for the letters, like they're swooping down on them from above, pushing them into shape, telling them what to say. In Prentisstown, everyone talks like they're sneaking up on their words, ready to club them from behind.

And too much informayshun can drive a man mad. Too much informayshun becomes just Noise. And it never, never stops.

Do you not wonder sometimes, she showed now, sadly, if in some ways they are correct? That we are asking too much of the world?"No," he said. "They're the ones who are asking for too little."

Life ain't fair. It ain't. Not never.

Knowledge is dangerous and men lie and the world changes, whether I want it to or not.

And otherwise normal men become monsters, too.

You said we all want there to be more than this! Well, there's always more than this. There's always something you don't know.