On the Pale Mutterer

-- "Ah! he is a philosopher! I ought to save his soul from floating into the land of the forms; alas, he is becoming an afterwordly! ...Ah! What is that? You believe in introspection do you?' Alas, she is becoming a retrospective wastebasket!... Who sings? I hear the grinding of instruments! A poet actor is drowning!"

-- "Bad air! Bad air! Bad air!: I smell the stench of dry, moldy prose!"

--"Plug your nose! Do you hear any words?"

--"Noise! Noise! Noise! I hear the squeals and shrills of their words--these logomachists!"

--"Can you make out what they're saying?"

--"No! Go on!"

--"These logomachists, these mutterers, these grinders of mistuned intruments, these delighters of noise are saying noth--"

-- "Enough! Enough!"

--"Wait! Open your nose again! Ah! Ambrosia! Where is that fragrance seeping from?"

--"A messager! An informer!"