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“I thinks what my mind thinking thinks, of thoughts I do think. I thinks steady stream of thinking thinks, of thoughts I am thinking. Round and round go my thinking thinks, of thoughts I do think. My mind is thinking wonderful thinks, of thoughts I do thinks. How much thinking thinks of thoughts a thinking person does thinks.”
― Jazz Feylynn

“She melted the butter in the pan. She warmed the egg yolks by immersing them in a bowl of hot water and mixing them with vinegar, then pouring in the shining golden butter little by little. She moved the whisk ceaselessly, making the contents of the bowl whirl round and round. Having observed Chizu's troubles up close, and learned how to avoid them, she succeeded in producing the fine egg-colored foam relatively quickly. Her whole hand, from the wrist down, was dancing on a waltz.
The tigers in the book, whose desires had kept them spinning round and round until they transformed into butter, had ended up in the stomachs of Little Babaji's family. Even after their deaths, Kajii's victims continued to be exposed to and consumed by the curious gaze of the general public.
Rika had stopped believing that any blame lay with the victims themselves. Being sucked into the vortex of Kajii's ominous power, like she herself had been, was something that could happen to anybody. Thinking this, she went on single-mindedly whisking the butter.
Through her adventures with the quatre-quarts on Valentine's Day, she'd learned that waiting on the far side of all of this seemingly endless whisking was not stasis or evaporation, but emulsification. If she couldn't tear her eyes away from Kajii, if she couldn't stop herself from spinning round and round, then maybe all that was left to do was to grip on to Kajii with all her might, so as to ensure she wasn't shaken off.
'Done!' Rika said to herself and lifted up the whisk. The sauce of warm, bright yellow that came dripping off the whisk was smooth as cashmere.”
― Asako Yuzuki, Butter

“You've been going round and round—haven't you? Round and round! You didn't know you were going somewhere, but you were! Like a paper boat in a whirlpool—round and round! And now you've arrived at the center!”
― Richard Sala, The Chuckling Whatsit