Penguin Highway Quotes

That’s where the ends of the earth are,” he said. “Where?” “The place you think isn’t fair. You can’t do anything about it, right?

No matter how fun something is, it always has an end.

The ends of the world were inside the world when it folded in on itself.

A solitary man in his bed is like a poor bed-red lazar lying by the highway-side unto whose displayed wounds and sores a number of stinging flies do swarm for pastance and beverage. His naked wounds are his inward heart-griping woes, the wasps and flies his idle wandering thoughts; who to that secret smarting pain he hath already do add a further sting of impatience and new-lance his sleeping griefs and vexations.

It was a lot of fun to write things in a good notebook. That’s why I took notes on everything. This notebook is the reason I’m so much smarter than your average elementary school student.

A baby whale rolling over in its sleep could easily flatten me. I imagined these babies must have very big poops. Far larger than mine. Everything about them was impressive.

I went to the middle of the lot and looked up at the sky, feeling like a pebble rolling around a vast, open plain. But that was only a metaphor. Even I can’t imagine a pebble’s emotional state.