How we cite our quotes: Chapter.Paragraph
Quote #1
God is dreaming of water. In his dream there is a fountain, and a naked girl, and (of course) there is him. The water is warm, the girl willing; her flesh is soft. He reaches out a hand to caress her breast, curls his fingers instead round one slim arm . . . (2.1)
This scene is a perverted version of the perfectly innocent scene that happens in the beginning of chapter one, where we meet Lucy. Guess that tells us a lot about the differences between Bob and Lucy.
Quote #2
"I'll have her," says God. (2.35)
Gee, Bob can sure say a lot without saying very much at all. By saying "have" Bob implies that he can posses Lucy like a doll or a nice sandwich or a vintage Ramones LP. Of course, he's God, so he can. But that doesn't mean we have to like it.
Quote #3
And then Bob went on to create every creeping thing, and some that leapt and climbed and slithered and tunneled as well, and he told them to be frantic and multiply, which they did by the most gobsmackingly weird mechanism Mr. B had ever observed, one that slightly embarrassed him as well. He wanted to tap the boy on the shoulder and say, "Excuse my presumption, but are you quite certain about that?" (6.14)
Well, we guess it makes sense that a sex-crazed God would make his creatures use sex to reproduce. (Although it's definitely a little more complicated than budding.)
Quote #4
"Excellent. Send her my love. Use a condom. Try not to talk about your job too much—you know the effect it has on women." (12.37
Wait, does God really need to use a condom? And what happens if he doesn't? Excuse us, we're going go hide before we get smote (smited? smitten?) for that heretical question. But before we go, this does raise a serious question: exactly how much like humans is Bob?
Quote #5
"Can't you just do the usual? Appear to her in a vision, give her a stigmata or two, blacken up your eyes, assume your most mournful expression? Don't they always fall for the hollow-eyed holy-seer thing?" Mr. B recognized the cycle: unrequited lust, idealized passion, consummation . . . and then he'd be on to the next, leaving the latest victim seduced, ruined and abandoned. What was wrong with him that (in how many dozens of millennia?) he'd never managed to learn anything useful from experience? (12.64)
Here's a radical idea: maybe Bob should just try being himself instead of acting all holy-seer. Or—better idea—maybe he should try dating someone his own age. (As in, immortal.)
Quote #6
She sank lower and lower toward sleep; waves of drowsiness lulled her softly, like long strokes of a hand, slowly, lower and lower, two hands now, each cupping a buttock and then moving, edging carefully down between her . . . Oh my giddy aunt , she thought, shooting upright in the dark. He's here! I can actually feel his fingers! (15.22)
Whoa. This is getting a little too real for us, Shmoopers—and it's getting a little too real for Lucy, too. But check her out: God is totally molesting her, and the worst phrase she can come up with is "Oh my giddy aunt." Now that is a good girl.
Quote #7
Did humans do this all the time? What a colossal waste of energy. Sex or no sex, he'd much rather be somewhere else. (26.8)
Hm. Now we're wondering how much time we spend on our relationships. (Oh and by "we" we don't mean Shmoop, because who needs sex when you have great works of literature? Are we right? Guys?)
Quote #8
"Never mind. Tea and cakes have been served, and we're all settling down to some nice Haydn quartets. Even the children are listening. Very good for the savage beast, you know." Breast, he thought, averting his eyes. Savage breast. (30.12)
(1) The actual phrase is "Music has charms to soothe the savage breast," but it's often misquoted as "savage beast." So, yeah, Bernard is just correcting Laura here. But (2) it also reminds us that vicars are people, too—and this particular one seems to have had a thing for Laura once upon a time.
Quote #9
Of course he did. Lucy attracted a great deal of interest—what mother could possibly remain ignorant of that fact? Laura was somewhat disturbed by her daughter's wanton ability to arouse. So different from her own tidy sexuality. (30.43)
Laura calls her own sexuality "tidy" and Lucy's "wanton." We guess just like everything else about her, Laura's sexuality stays in nice, clean, predetermined lines.
Quote #10
Why hadn't he called? Or come to see her? Had it meant so little to him? Had she meant so little? Was sex all he wanted? And the talk of love—was that nothing too? The sandwich in her throat turned to clay. She wanted to cry. (41.16)
Before we start pointing the finger at Bob, do you think it's that easy to separate love from lust? Could he have been honest at the time?