„Then the Prater became the roundezvous of Viennese high society. Then the Freudenau, at the time of the races, was a blaze of fashionable magnificence. On every day was a great stream of carriages along the Hauptallee (the principal avenue of the Prater), in which could be seen the equipages of all arristocratic families, those proud names which made the Viennese Court world-famous for its pride and exclusiveness – the Liechtensteins, the Montenuovos, the Schwartzenbergs, the Metternichs, the Fürstenbergs, the Kinkys, the Harrachs, and hundred other illustrious houses.
At the beginning of the Hauptallee were the coffee gardens and restaurants where the citizens resorted to spend their leisure in social gossip, [...]. Here, under the stately trees whose leaves whispered strange tales of past glories or mournful defeats, the middle-class frequenters gathered to enjoy their beers and cheese, or drink their coffee or and eat little Viennese rolls, in full view of the great avenue [...].“

"Formular her." Seit zwei Wochen bin ich nun schon im Aids-Hilfe-Haus. Ich streiche jeden Tag auf Jakobs Kalender durch. Jeder ausgekreuzte Tag entlässt mich deprimiert und verärgert in den Feierabend. Noch zwölf Kreuze. Der massige Mann reicht mir den Zettel, ich nehme ihn und beginne in meinen Computer zu tippen. Ich stelle eine Frage nach der anderen, notiere die Antworten, so wie ich angewiesen wurde.
"Bitte im Wartezimmer Platz nehmen."