'Rosemary's Baby is in my blood,' says the Tardis.
'The anatomy of an earthworm,' Rosemary's Baby says, describing
what teleportation looks like.
'Art Deco,' its description of the Tardis itself.
'Thalamus biter,' the Tardis' description of Rosemary's Baby's behavior in situ.
'I am sorry a two-second frame of my face, taken from a moving train, has ever appeared on the Travel Channel.' (Hemingway, nursing his drink with an ambiguous leer.)
Written in the speech bubble materializing right by the pocket of the bum camping out in the subway terminal: 'Yo! I am your internal body functions!'
'It was an oblique experience, like falling only trippier. But now I'm exhausted.' (God – re the creation of Man.)
'Batteries do have feelings, bless their little hearts' – a flashlight, in Morse.
'And they move their mouths' - Patrick Swayze to Keano Reeves, in the movie Point Break, in one of his bouts of self-convinced, home-brew philosophizing, fireside, in respect of fish.
'Cinnamon is therapy.'*
'I was confident I could have a pie chart made in my honor.' (Father of six, husband to famous, blond, high-heeled career counselor).
'Pesticides make the butterflies in my tummy cantankerous,' Prince Harry, before each Royal Ball.
The hairpin keeping the grandma hairstyle of thirteen year-old Roxy Cullen together: 'It would be really lovely to insert the long filament of my ebony soul into the eye of each person here at INVADERCON.'
'I would rather just sit here peacefully watching this candle,' I say, in 1846, on the porch of a farmhouse – 'and speculate about the exact location of its fuse.'
'Candles are pee shy,' more than one flame is purported to have vouched.**
A member of the audience stands up and observes in a booming voice that the bionic clamper, her main distinguishing attribute, is missing from the lower half of Oprah's face.
'It is rather unsatisfactory to have a pie chart made in one's honor,' the famous blond career counselor assures her husband, stroking his hair gently.
'Can you teach me how carpet-bombing works? And how I might be able to do it? Please?' a mosquito asked the stunned and – some say – devout and charitable landlord of a Brooklyn tenement building, the mosquito's slurper coiled in a bizarre rendition of obeisance, apparently aware of whom he was speaking to, and requesting this disturbing favor from.
'Motor-reflexes can serve MORE functions than just inserting cute subliminal pauses in the movements of characters in stop-motion animations,' an actual character in a stop-motion animation asserts, bitterly.***
*Source has been shot for saying this, on account of sounding intolerably woolly.
**Scientifically unverifiable to the point of libelous.
***Said stop-motion character has subsequently, since this writing, been gruffly dragged off the set of King Lear.