‘We have in our lives only a few moments,’ said Dickens, but then he stopped. Words for him were songs, a performance. But he was not singing or performing now. ‘A moment of joy and wonder with another. Some might say beauty or transcendence.’ He swallowed. He had been talking about Dora, but now he realised it was about something else. ‘Or all those things. Then you reach an age, Miss Tenan, and you realise that moment, was your life. That those moments are all, and that they are everything. And yet we persist in thinking that such moments will only have worth if we can make them go on forever. We should live for moments, yet we are so fraught with pursuing everything else, with the future, with the anchors that pull us down, so busy that we sometimes don’t even see the moments for what they are. We leave a sick child in order to make a speech.’

Richard Flanagan, Wanting - novelist and environmentalist (1961-)

I undertake to do what an honest man should do, let it thunder or rain.

Carboni Raffaello, The Eureka Stockade - poet and novelist (1817–85)

…Bloom is bisexually abnormal. He has recently escaped from Dr Eustace’s private asylum for demented gentlemen. Born out of bedlock hereditary epilepsy is present, the consequence of unbridled lust. Traces of elephantiasis have been discovered among his ascendants. There are marked symptoms of chronic exhibitionism. Ambidexterity is also latent. He is prematurely bald from selfabuse, perversely idealistic in consequence, a reformed rake, and has metal teeth. In consequence of a family complex he has temporarily lost his memory and I believe him to be more sinned against than sinning. I have made a pervaginal examination and, after application of the acid test to 5427 anal, axillary, pectoral and pubic hairs, I declare him to be virgo intacta. (Bloom holds his high grade hat over his genital organs)…

James Joyce, Ulysses (Episode 15) - Irish novelist, poet and short story writer (1882-1941)

About the heavens, it was simple: right or wrong. Down here among the workings of humans, there was no guide that could be relied upon from an answer.

Kate Grenville, The Lieutenant - novelist (1950–)

It has been said that she peels an economical potato. Seven children she had to bring up after he defected. I have seen her holding a skinned potato perhaps admiring her artistry or wondering whether to gouge the eyes. Perhaps she should leave them. A certain amount of flesh would disappear with the gouging.

Patrick White, Three Uneasy Pieces (The Screaming Potato short story) - novelist, short story writer, playwright, poet and essayist (1912–1990)