It's not that I don't like visitors. I like visitors as much as the next Hobbit. But I do like to know them before they come visiting.
— Just how long is she here for?
— Who knows?
— No guest should be admitted with no departure date settled.
— M-m-m. This is good. This is really good. What is this?
— Uh, weed rat. Rotisserie style.
— No kidding. Well, this is delicious.
— Well, they're also great in stews. Now, I don't mean to brag, but I make a mean weed rat stew.
— I guess I'll be dining a little differently tomorrow night.
— Maybe you can come visit me in the swamp sometime. I'll cook all kinds of stuff for you. Swamp toad soup, fish eye tartare — you name it.
— I'd like that.
Der Gast ist wie der Fisch, er bleibt nicht lange frisch.
Mayor of Boracho: — You're the guest of honor.
Professor Fate: — Well, I don't want to be a guest of honor.
<...>
Mayor of Boracho: — You're gonna attend the meeting tonight... or, by jumped-up Harry, you're gonna be guest of honor at a necktie party!
Maximilian Meen: — Necktie? Well, what kind of cheap present is that?
– What do we think of the boy?... Is he a captive like Smee in Nicholas Nickleby?... He looks lonely.
– You don't think he'll try to call?
– Maybe. He has a secret! A tragic, European secret.
– He's had no upbringing at all, they say. He was reared in Italy among artists and vagrants.
– Doesn't he have a noble brow? If I were a boy, I'd want to look just like that. Imagine, giving up Italy to come live with that awful old man!
– Jo, please don't say "awful". It's slang.
– I'd be terrified to live with him.
— Do you have engine oil? Before I set off for Birmingham, the car needs oil.
— I'm sure my husband kept some in the garage. I can get someone to do it.
— This evening or tomorrow?
— Well, we're so far from anywhere, people usually stay over. Especially before cars, when it was just carriages, people used to stay over all the time.
— But I have a car.
— Yes.
— And you have engine oil.