“What in water did Bloom, waterlover, drawer of water, watercarrier, returning to the range, admire?
“What did that mean, to kiss? You put your face up like that to say goodnight and then his mother put her face down. That was to kiss. His mother put her lips on his cheek; her lips were soft and they wetted his cheek; and they made a tiny little noise: kiss. Why did people do that with their two faces?”
“What incensed him the most was the blatant jokes of the ones that passed it all off as a jest, pretending to understand everything and in reality not knowing their own minds.”
“I am the fire upon the altar. I am the sacrificial butter.”
Ruth Ann Minner