Ann: Thank you for getting me away from that nightmare.

Mr. Oliver: I take it your father wasn’t the one who wrote to me in Braille after all.

Ann: I don’t think he really understands that Braille typewriters make words. How he imagines I made it through college, I haven’t the faintest idea.

Oliver’s Being: You do realize that I wouldn’t be able to help you with that sort of thing? Reading your language is difficult for me. Writing, next to impossible.

Ann: I am aware of your limitations, yes. As well as your considerable advantages.

Mr. Oliver: And why, Miss Ann, should those advantages be granted to you?

I appreciate your initiative, and have sympathy for our shared handicap. But let us suppose I agree to grant you this Mastery upon my death. What would you do to make that choice worthwhile?

Ann: May I be frank with you, Mr. Oliver?

I rather thought I’d begin with trying to take over the world.