From the Bookshelf of Reading the Classics…

"Here's a taxidermist's," Bill said. "Want to buy anything? Nice stuffed dog?"
"Come on," I said. "You're pie-eyed."
"Pretty nice stuffed dogs," Bill said. "Certainly brighten up your flat."
"Come on."
"Just one stuffed dog. I can take 'em or leave 'em alone. But listen, Jake. Just one stuffed dog."
"Come on."
"Mean everything in the world to you after you bought it. Simple exchange of values. You give them money. They give you a stuffed dog."
"We'll get one on the way back."
"All right. Have it your own way. Road to hell paved with un-bought stuffed dogs. Not my fault."
We went on.

...A horse-cab passed us. Bill looked at it.
"See that horse-cab? Going to have that horse-cab stuffed for you for Christmas. Going to give all my friends stuffed animals. I'm a nature-writer."

(view spoiler)[p 26, adding names brackets so you can tell who's talking, you have to pay attention even with all the text, because it's not always clear. Him is Jake, her is Brett:

"Don't you love me?" [him]
"Love you? I simply turn all to jelly when you touch me." [her]
"Isn't there anything we can do about it?" [him]

...[Description here about how they're sitting, and how she's looking at him.]...

"And there's not a damn thing we could do," I said. [him]
"I don't know," she said. "I don't want to go through that hell again."
"We'd better keep away from each other." [him]
"But, darling, I have to see you. It isn't all that you know." [her]
"No, but it always gets to be." [him]
"That's my fault. Don't we pay for all the things we do, though?" [her]
She had been looking into my eyes all the time. Her eyes had different depths, sometimes they seemed perfectly flat. Now you could see all the way into them.
"When I think of the hell I've put chaps through. I'm paying for it all now." [her]
"Don't talk like a fool," I said. "Besides, what happened to me is supposed to be funny. I never think about it."
"Oh no, I'll lay you don't."
"Well, let's shut up about it."
"I laughed at it too, myself, once." She wasn't looking at me. "A friend of my brother's came home that way from Mons. It seemed like a hell of a joke. Chaps never know anything do they?"
"No," I said. "Nobody ever knows anything."
I was pretty well through with the subject. At one time or another I had probably considered it from most of its various angles, including the one that certain injuries or imperfections are a subject of merriment while remaining quite serious for the person possessing them.

p 31, Jake thinking about the wound:

My head started to work. The old grievance. Well, it was a rotten way to be wounded and flying on a joke front like the Italian. In the Italian hospital we were going to form a society. It had a funny name in Italian. I wonder what became of the others, the Italians. That was in the Ospedale Maggiore in Milano, Padiglione Ponte. The next building was the Padiglione Zonda. There was a statue of Ponte, or maybe it was Zonda. That was where the liaison colonel came to visit me. That was funny. That was about the first funny thing. I was all bandaged up. But they had told him about it. Then he made that wonderful speech: "You, a foreigner, an Englishman" (any foreigner was an Englishman) "have given more than your life." What a speech! I would like to have it illuminated to hang up in the office. He never laughed. He was putting himself in my place, I guess. "Che mala fortuna! Che mala fortuna!"

I never used to realize it, I guess. I try and play it along and just not make trouble for people. Probably I never would have had any trouble if I hadn't run into Brett when they shipped me to England. I suppose she only wanted what she couldn't have. Well, people were that way. To hell with people. The Catholic Church had an awfully good way of handling all that. Good advice, anyway. Not to think about it. Oh, it was swell advice. Try and take it sometime. Try and take it.

I lay awake thinking and my mind jumping around. Then I couldn't keep away from it, and I started to think about Brett and all the rest of it went away. I was thinking about Brett and my mind stopped jumping around and started to go in sort of smooth waves. Then all of a sudden I started to cry. Then after a while it was better and I lay in bed and listened to the heavy trams go by and way down the street, and then I went to sleep.
(hide spoiler)]

"I'm thirty-four, you know. I'm not going to be one of those bitches that ruins children."

(view spoiler)[p 143, Michael: "No, listen, Jake. Brett's gone off with men. But they weren't ever Jews, and they didn't come and hang around afterwards."

p 162: "That Cohen gets me," Bill said. "He's got this Jewish superiority so strong that he thinks the only emotion he'll get out of the fight will be being bored."

p 184, Brett: "Oh, darling, don't be difficult. What do you think it's meant to have that damned Jew about, and Mike the way he's acted?"

p 203, Michael: "...I said if she would go about with Jews and bull-fighters and such people, she must expect trouble." (hide spoiler)]

(view spoiler)["Wonderful nigger. Looked like Tiger Flowers, only four times as big. All of a sudden everybody started to throw things. Not me. Nigger'd just knocked local boy down. Nigger put up his glove. Wanted to make a speech. Awful noble-looking nigger. Started to make a speech. Then local white boy hit him. Then he knocked white boy cold. Then everybody commenced to throw chairs. Nigger went home with us in our car. Remember the whole thing now. Big sporting evening." (hide spoiler)]