1) "After that I had lovely Mozart, the Jupiter, and there were new pictures of different litsos to be ground and splashed, and it was after this that I thought I would have just one last disc only before crossing the border, and I wanted something starry and strong and firm, so it was J.S. Bach I had, the Brandenburg Concerto just for middle and lower strings. And, slooshying with different bliss than before, I viddied again this name on the paper I'd razrezzed that night, a long time ago it seemed, in that cottage called HOME. The name was about a clockwork orange. Listening to the J.S. Bach, I began to pony better what that meant now, and I thought, slooshying away to the brown gorgeousness of that starry German master, that I would have like to have tolchecked them both harder and ripped them to ribbons on their own floor."

2) "'Well well well. What makes, bratty. What gives, this fine bright middle of the nochy?' He said:
'I'll give you just ten seconds to wipe that stupid grin off of your face. Then I want you to listen.'
'Well, what?' I said, smecking. 'Are you not satisfied with beating me near to death and having me spat upon and making me confess to crimes for hours on end and then shoving me among bezoomnies and vonny perverts in that grahzny cell? Have you some new torture for me, you bratchny?'
'It'll be your own torture,' he said, serious. 'I hope to God it'll torture you to madness.'
And then, before he told me, I knew what it was. The old ptitsa who had all the kots and koshkas had passed on to a better world in one of the city hospitals. I'd cracked her a bit too hard, like. Well, well, that was everything. I thought of all those kots and koshkas mewing for moloko and getting none, not any more from their starry forella of a mistress. That was everything. I'd done the lot, now. And me still only fifteen."