Mr. Abney:
To the some, to the chosen, immortality is given, Stephen.

Mr. Abney:
And it was recorded by Simon Magus that he was able to fly through the air...

Mr. Abney:
... not yet.

Mr. Abney:
Good. Excellent. Out to grass. Quite the thing.

Mr. Abney:
Crudely scored under great pressure, the wood being too old and hard to be so incised by the hand of a living child.

Mrs. Bunch:
It's my belief she was had away by the gypsies, for there was singing round the house for as much as an hour the night after she'd gone, and lights in the wood like will-o'-the-wisps!

Mrs. Bunch:
They're an unruly lot, these foreign nations.

Mr. Abney:
Another step towards everlasting life in *this* world.

Stephen:
No hearts, they had no hearts! And the hurdy-gurdy - it kept playing.

Mr. Abney:
Some annoyance may be experienced from the psychic portion of the subjects. Especially in those cases where they can command the allegiance of what we are pleased to call material objects.

Mrs. Bunch:
Rats more than like!

Mr. Abney:
Munificent engine, soul bread, strong rhythm of eternity... *My* eternity!