"Even though Billy's train wasn't moving, its boxcars were kept locked tight. Nobody was to get off until the final destination. To the guards who walked up and down outside, each car became a single organism which ate and drank and excreted through its ventilators. It talked or sometimes yelled through its ventilators, too. In went water and loaves of black-bread and sausage and cheese, and out came shit and piss and language."
"Like so many Americans she was trying to construct a life that made sense from things she found in gift shops"
- Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five