A Confederacy of Dunces

Pushing through the people, Mrs. Reilly said, “Ignatius! What’s going on here? What you done now? Hey, take your hands off my boy.” “I’m not touching him, lady,” the policeman said. “Is this here your son?” Mrs. Reilly snatched the whizzing lute string from Ignatius. “Of course I’m her child,” Ignatius said. “Can’t you see her affection for me?” “S

“It’s not your fate to be well treated,” Ignatius cried. “You’re an overt masochist. Nice treatment will confuse and destroy you.”

You learnt everything, Ignatius, except how to be a human being.”

“Do you know that a national home decorating magazine wants to do a four-page color spread on this building?” Dorian asked. “If you had any sense, you would realize that that is the ultimate insult,” Ignatius snorted.

“My being has many facets.”

(For example, can you name one good, practicing transvestite in the Senate?

“I am the avenging sword of taste and decency,”

Oh, Mother, if only you knew how cruelly I’ve been tricked by a conspiracy of sub-humans.

“The next war could turn out to be one massive orgy.