The Collector will never speak to you. He saw too much on the farms and has closed his eyes against everything. He spends his time discovering and hoarding words and other precious things which he happens to find appealing. For him I am like the blind man’s seeing-eye dog. I go where the Collector cannot go; I recite for him his favourite poetry and the snatches of literary wisdom which he has gathered over the years. That shores up morale within the Troop Formation, just as Elvira’s relating anything unpleasant to one song or another wipes out the sadness we feel.”
