Joe

“Tricia loved New York because loving New York was a good career move. It
was a good retail move, a good cuisine move, not a good taxi move or a great
quality of pavement move, but definitely a career move that ranked amongst
the highest and the best. Tricia was a TV anchor person, and New York
was where most of the world’s TV was anchored. Tricia’s TV anchoring had
been done exclusively in Britain up to that point: regional news, then breakfast
news, early evening news. She would have been called, if the language allowed,
a rapidly rising anchor, but... hey, this is television, what does it matter? She
was a rapidly rising anchor. She had what it took: great hair, a profound
understand- ing of strategic lip gloss, the intelligence to understand the world
and a tiny secret interior deadness which meant she didn’t care. Everybody
has their moment of great opportunity in life. If you happen to miss the one
you care about, then everything else in life becomes eerily easy.
Tricia had only ever missed one opportunity. These days it didn’t even make
her tremble quite so much as it used to to think about it. She guessed it was
that bit of her that had gone dead.”
― Douglas Adams, Mostly Harmless

“Dr. Seward, may I ask a favour? I want to see your patient, Mr. Renfield.

Do let me see him. What you have said of him in your diary interests me so
much!"

She looked so appealing and so pretty that I could not refuse her, and there
was no possible reason why I should, so I took her with me. When I went into
the room, I told the man that a lady would like to see him, to which he simply
answered, "Why?"

"She is going through the house, and wants to see every one in it," I
answered.

"Oh, very well," he said, "let her come in, by all means, but just wait a
minute till I tidy up the place."

His method of tidying was peculiar, he simply swallowed all the flies and
spiders in the boxes before I could stop him. It was quite evident that he feared,
or was jealous of, some interference. When he had got through his disgusting
task, he said cheerfully, "Let the lady come in," and sat down on the edge of his
bed with his head down, but with his eyelids raised so that he could see her as
she entered.”
― Bram Stoker, Dracula

“In this strain did Sancho bewail himself, and his ass listened to
him, but answered him never a word, such was the distress and
anguish the poor beast found himself in. At length, after a night
spent in bitter moanings and lamentations, day came, and by its
light Sancho perceived that it was wholly impossible to escape out
of that pit without help, and he fell to bemoaning his fate and
uttering loud shouts to find out if there was anyone within hearing;
but all his shouting was only crying in the wilderness, for there
was not a soul anywhere in the neighbourhood to hear him, and then
at last he gave himself up for dead. Dapple was lying on his back, and
Sancho helped him to his feet, which he was scarcely able to keep; and
then taking a piece of bread out of his alforjas which had shared
their fortunes in the fall, he gave it to the ass, to whom it was
not unwelcome, saying to him as if he understood him, "With bread
all sorrows are less.”
― Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, Don Quixote

“It was a charming and delightful day at Lord's as Ford and Arthur tumbled haphazardly out of a space-time anomaly and hit the immaculate turf rather hard.
The applause of the crowd was tremendous. It wasn't for them, but instinctively they bowed anyway, which was fortunate because the small red heavy ball which the crowd actually had been applauding whistled mere millimetres over Arthur's head. In the crowd a man collapsed.
They threw themselves back to the ground which seemed to spin hideously around them.
"What was that?" hissed Arthur.
"Something red," hissed Ford back at him.
"Where are we?"
"Er, somewhere green."
"Shapes," muttered Arthur. "I need shapes."
The applause of the crowd had been rapidly succeeded by gasps of astonishment, and the awkward titters of hundreds of people who could not yet make up their minds about whether to believe what they had just seen or not.
"This your sofa?" said a voice.
"What was that?" whispered Ford.
Arthur looked up.
"Something blue," he said.
"Shape?" said Ford.
Arthur looked again.
"It is shaped," he hissed at Ford, with his brow savagely furrowing, "like a policeman."
They remained crouched there for a few moments, frowning deeply. The blue thing shaped like a policeman tapped them both on the shoulders.
"Come on, you two," the shape said, "let's be having you."
These words had an electrifying effect on Arthur. He leapt to his feet like an author hearing the phone ring and shot a series of startled glanced at the panorama around him which had suddenly settled down into something of quite terrifying ordinariness.
"Where did you get this from?" he yelled at the policeman shape.
"What did you say?" said the startled shape.
"This is Lord's Cricket Ground, isn't it?" snapped Arthur. "Where did you find it, how did you get it here? I think," he added, clasping his hand to his brow, "that I had better calm down." He squatted down abruptly in front of Ford.
"It is a policeman," he said, "What do we do?"
Ford shrugged.
"What do you want to do?" he said.
"I want you," said Arthur, "to tell me that I have been dreaming for the last five years."
Ford shrugged again, and obliged.
"You've been dreaming for the last five years," he said.
Arthur got to his feet.
"It's all right, officer," he said. "I've been dreaming for the last five years. Ask him," he added, pointing at Ford, "he was in it.”
― Douglas Adams, Life, the Universe and Everything