Milo noticed many of the people he had seen in the market place. The letter man was busy explaining to an interested group the history of the W, and off in a corner the Spelling Bee and the Humbug were arguing fiercely about nothing at all. Officer Shift wandered through the crowd, suspiciously muttering, “Guilty, guilty, they’re all guilty,” and, on noticing Milo, brightened visibly and commented in passing, “Is it six million years already? My, how time flies.”
“Too much too quickly, too much too quickly,” wheezed the uncomfortable bug. “To be sure, too much too quickly, I most certainly should have eaten too little too slowly, or too much too slowly, or too little too quickly, or taken all day to eat nothing, or eaten everything in no time at all, or occasionally eaten something any time, or perhaps I should have---” And he toppled back, exhausted, into his chair and continued to mumble indistinctly.
“Well,” said the boy. “In my family, everyone is born in the air, with his head at exactly the height it’s going to be when he’s an adult, then we all grow toward the ground. When we’re fully grown up, or as you can say, grown down, our feet finally touch. Of course, there are a few of us whose feet never reach the ground no matter how old we get, but I suppose it’s the same in every family.”
Pg. 104 PG#9
“Do you know where we are?” ask Milo.
“Certainly,” he replied. “We’re right here on this very spot. Besides, being lost is never a matter of not knowing where you are; it’s a matter of not knowing where you aren’t-and I don’t care at all about where I’m not.”
Pg. 110 PG#2-3
All the flowers suddenly appeared black, the gray rocks became a lovely soft chartreuse, and even peacefully sleeping Tock turned from brown to a magnificent ultramarine. Nothing was the color it should have been, and yet, the more he tried to straighten things out, the worse they became.
Pg. 129 PG#7
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