But which of us can hope to probe with questioning finger the dim thoughts that flit in a fool’s head?  One man will think he has a glass bottom and will fear to sit in case of breakage.  In other respects he will be a man of great intellectual force and will accompany one in a mental ramble throughout the labyrinths of mathematics or philosophy so long as he is allowed to remain standing throughout the disputations.  Another man will be perfectly polite and well conducted except that he will in no circumstances turn otherwise than to the right and indeed will own a bicycle so constructed that it cannot turn otherwise than to that point.  Others will be subject to colours and will attach undue merit to articles that are red or green or white merely because they bear that hue.  Some will be exercised and influenced by the texture of a cloth or by the roundness or angularity of an object.  Numbers, however, will account for a great proportion of unbalanced and suffering humanity.  One man will rove the streets seeking motor-cars with numbers that are divisible by seven.  Well known, alas, is the case of the poor German who was very fond of three and who made each aspect of his life a thing of triads.  He went home one evening and drank three cups of tea with three lumps of sugar in each, cut his jugular with a razor three times and scrawled with a dying hand on a picture of his wife good-bye, good-bye, good-bye.

The (imo near-perfect) ending of At Swim-Two-Birds.