*There's a particular texture to Regulus' voice, a feeling that touches the finger tips. It's that waxy, frail impression of Oldness, all the wavering paper-like quality of 90-year-old skin, broken down and vocalized through an ancient record player. Barty hears every word. He hoists himself over the side of the tub.*

I know loads of things, but I know what I know more than what I don't and I'm better for it. If I only knew what I didn't I wouldn't even know YOU - because whose to say you aren't someone else. You'd be easy to fake.