- Peter Standish: A new Fire of London, that's what's needed here. Yes, and a new Plague too. Dirt, disease, cruelty, smells - Lord, how the eighteenth century stinks!
- [last line, heard in Peter's memory]
- Helen Pettigrew: We shall be together, Peter. Not in my time, not in yours, but in God's.
- Peter Standish: Doesn't that prove that all time must really be one? Time... real time... is nothing but an idea in the mind of God.
- Mr. Throstle: Hmm... the man must be gifted with second sight. Such feats as this are common in Scotland.
- Helen Pettigrew: Do they not still dance the minuet in America,cousin?
- Peter Standish: Well, we have forgotten your polite measures. Our dances are modelled on those of the Neg-... ahum, the Red Indians.
- Kate Pettigrew: Peter Standish came from New York in the 'General Wolfe'. His body stands there. But what have you done with him? You've stolen his body... what have you done with his soul?
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