Sunning himself on the board steps, I saw for the first time Mr. Farquhar Fenelon Cooke. He was dressed out in broad gaiters and bright tweeds, like an English tourist, and his face might have belonged to Dagon, idol of the Philistines.

Hippolito, shattered by his realization that he had almost committed “the most execrable act of amicide,” blames himself for “his blindness in not knowing his dearest friend” (495).

[…] there is almost no actual control over the behaviour as none of the deshoppers interviewed had ever been caught.

I have felt so many quirks of joy and grief / That the first face of neither on the start / Can woman me unto't.