In some den of exiled dreamers I was introduced to the great German Nihilist philosopher, Professor de Worms. I did not gather much about him beyond his appearance, which was very disgusting, and which I studied carefully. I understood that he had proved that the destructive principle in the universe was God; hence he insisted on the need for a furious and incessant energy, rending all things in pieces.

Then he tried to blast my claims intellectually. I countered that by a very simple dodge. Whenever he said something that nobody but he could understand, I replied with something which I could not even understand myself.

Under the increasing sunlight the colours of the Doctor’s complexion, the pattern of his tweeds, grew and expanded outrageously, as such things grow too important in a realistic novel.

It is important for you to build up a fairly close group of arch-wizards who you trust and who are not scared to tell you what they think.

Plots are usually variations on: dinosaur creates perilous situation for pre-modern community; perilous situation is resolved by plucky athletic girl making out with the dinosaur.

Food suitable for the crew consists of an orange, green, or blue paste-like substance, which is squirted from phallic dispensers, much to Stan’s disgust.

The details are thus everything, and Wittgenstein supervised their construction with an almost fanatical exactitude.  When a locksmith asked: “Tell me, Herr Ingenieur, does a millimetre here or there really matter so much to you?” Wittgenstein roared “Yes!” before the man had finished speaking.  During discussions with the engineering firm responsible for the high glass doors which Wittgenstein had designed, the engineer handling the negotiations broke down in tears, despairing of ever executing the commission in accordance with Wittgenstein’s standards.
[…]
The house was designed with little regard to the comforts of ordinary mortals.  The qualities of clarity, rigour and precision which characterize it are indeed those one looks for in a system of logic rather than in a dwelling place.  In designing the interior Wittgenstein made extraordinarily few concessions to domestic comfort.  Carpets, chandeliers and curtains were strictly rejected.  The floors were of dark polished stone, the walls and ceilings painted a light ochre, the metal of the windows, the door handles and the radiators was left unpainted, and the rooms were lit with naked light-bulbs.

Wittgenstein designs a house for his sister (from the Ray Monk bio)

In nearly every letter he makes some use of the English adjective “bloody,” which, for some reason, he found inexhaustibly funny.  He would begin his letters “Dear Old Blood” and end them “Yours bloodily” or “Yours in bloodiness.”

One should put a stop to the nonsense of chatterboxes, but that does not mean that one should refuse to talk nonsense oneself.

It flirts with numerous genres: it is part spy thriller, part anti-history, and part manual for the training of hunting dogs.