I have no penny.  You may have a farthing.

One more repetition would have been enough to finally reinvigorate your weary, battered nation.  A pity you did not care just a little more.

Oh, wonderful.  Pack away the crockery and bolt the doors, everyone.

"Measure your mind's height by the shade it casts."  Browning, I believe.

I have long suspected that we are each of us only figments of our own imaginations.  The implication of this is profoundly terrifying, if true.

Never doubt that you are loved, dear sir.  When all other trusts fail, hold this close to your heart: you are loved.

At times I suspect that there are hidden meanings in conversation which are lost upon me, owing perhaps to a sheltered upbringing and the brooding presence of a Calvinist governess during much of my childhood.  However: the implication above can certainly only mean that Mr. Cera is, perhaps due to a disagreeable…

Many of you are now hungrily staring at the above discourse and ruminating on the title of that utter travesty of both literature and theatre, 'The Twilight Saga, Breaking Dawn.'  But I beg you, in the name of rectitude, charity and simple human decency, do not proceed.  For the love of God and Empire, resist this…

I admit, I had hoped this was a biography of Charles Darwin.  What?  Oh.  Oh, very well, let me see… "Dawn of the Planet of the Apes 3- the Tree-quel".

…They have seen too much…

Indeed?

What next?  Will Mr. Dooshbaghe will speak disparagingly of the prosthetic foreheads which we wear upon our real heads?

Pray do not hold anything back, good sir or madam.  Do give voice to whatever observations strike you.  I will just be down here on the floor, rendered unto dull oblivion by the disquieting comparison you have chosen to describe.

As a ready substitute, do feel free to repeatedly strike your crown on a copper boiler and then document the experience.

(Checks chrono-spectrometer, frowns)
  My calculations indicate that Warp 10 is unattainable.

Indeed?  I was going to offer you all valuable stock-market information through the simple expedient of reconfiguring my temporal-visual apparatus ten years farther into the future.  But now?  You may trust your fortunes instead to grim, merciless chance.

Yes… yes of course you did.  Do forgive me, it is only that for a moment I thought that… why, wait one moment, you conniving villain!  The word appears above in stark black and white!

Some dreams, like bitter cautions play,
  The dulcimer of sleepless dread,
  And then upon the break of day,
  Cast shrieking curses on your head.

I made the mistake of mentioning a snippet of conversation that I had observed in these environs to my char-woman, and I fear she might have spoken to the vicar, for now he is ever 'dropping in' to pester me with highly personal questions about my thoughts, my constitution, whether I am hounded by voices and visions…
 …

(Faints dead away)
  (Briefly recovers)
  (Faints dead away)