'He ought to've been a painter instead of a policeman, the things he sees in trees and sunsets. I tell him he wouldn't notice a murder right before his eyes if there was a sunset there too.'

'If this is a joke...' she began. 'If it is,' he answered, 'all your philosophers and schoolmen were mad together. And your life's work is no more than the comparison of different scribblings in the cells of a lunatic asylum.'

'What harm would the Divine Universals do us? I mean, aren't the angels supposed to be rather gentle and helpful and all that?' 'You're doing what Marcellus warned you against', - Richardson said, 'judging them by English pictures. All nightgowns and body and a kind of flacculent sweetness. As in cemeteries, with broken bits of marble.'