Vendor:
Look, if you please, at this extraordinary potato... this swelling, luxuriant flesh, forever conceiving new shapes... and yet so chaste. I love a potato, because it speaks to me.
Agnes Matzerath:
Don't expect me to touch your eels.
Alfred Matzerath:
Don't put on airs.
Agnes Matzerath:
I'll never eat fish again. Certainly not eels.
Alfred Matzerath:
You've always eaten them, and you knew where they came from!
Bebra:
You must join us, you must!
Oskar Matzerath:
You know, Mr. Bebra... to tell the truth, I prefer to be a member of the audience, and let my little art flower in secret.
Bebra:
My dear Oskar, trust an experienced colleague. Our kind must never sit in the audience. Our kind must perform and run the show, or the others will run *us*. The others are coming. They will occupy the fairgrounds, they will stage torchlight parades, build rostrums, fill the rostrums, and from those rostrums preach our destruction.
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