He was born to be Emperor of Cochin-China, to smoke 36-fathom pipes, to have 6,000 wives and 1,400 catamites

At eighteen, he [Flaubert] decides that some freakish wind must have mistakenly transported him to France: he was born, he declares, to be Emperor of Cochin-China, to smoke 36-fathom pipes, to have 6,000 wives and 1,400 catamites; but instead, displaced by this meteorological hazard, he is left with immense, insatiable desires, fierce boredom, and an attack of the yawns.

J. Barnes, Flaubert's Parrot (1984), 142

There shall be a twenty-year ban on novels set in Oxford and Cambridge

4) There shall be a twenty-year ban on novels set in Oxford and Cambridge, and a ten year ban on other university fiction. No ban on fiction set in polytechnics (though no subsidy to encourage it). No ban on novels set in primary schools; a ten-year ban on secondary-school fiction. A partial ban on growing-up novels (one per author allowed). A partial ban on novels written in the historic present (again, one per author). A total ban on on novels where the main character is a journalist or a television presenter.

J. Barnes, Flaubert's Parrot (1984), 111-2

Actually, the whole list of proposed literary bans is great. In full, the narrator bans novels 

1. Where people revert to the 'natural condition' of man
2. About incest
3. Set in abbatoirs
4. Set in Oxford and Cambridge (as above)
5. Set in South America (quota system)
6. With scenes of bestiality
7. About small forgotten wars in distant parts of the British Empire
8. Where any major character is identified by a single letter
9. About other novels
10. With 'allegorical, metaphorical, allusive, offstage, imprecise and ambiguous uses of God' 

I didn't relish this: not least because it meant that I didn't break my silence till the cheese course

I don't even care for harmless, comic coincidences. I once went out to dinner and discovered that the seven other people present had all just finished reading A Dance to the Music of Time. I didn't relish this: not least because it meant that I didn't break my silence till the cheese course.

J. Barnes, Flaubert's Parrot (1984), 70-71

Pedantry and non-pedantry are indications only of temperament, not of culinary skill

And while we're about it: pedantry and non-pedantry are indications only of temperament, not of culinary skill. Non-pedants frequently misunderstand pedants and are inclined to adopt an air of superiority. 'Oh, I don't follow recipes,' they will say, as if cooking from a text were like making love with a sex-manual open at your elbow. Or: 'I read recipes, but only to get ideas.' Well, fine, but let me ask you this: would you use a lawyer who said 'Oh, I glance at a few statutes, but only to get ideas'? One of the best cooks I know automatically gets down a recipe book whenever she roasts a chicken.

J. Barnes, The pedant in the kitchen (2003), 14

I don’t say things have got worse; I merely say the young wouldn’t notice if they had

When you are young, you think that the old lament the deterioration of life because this makes it easier for them to die without regret. When you are old, you become impatient with the way in which the young applaud the most insignificant improvements - the invention of some new valve or sprocket - while remaining heedless of the world’s barbarism. I don’t say things have got worse; I merely say the young wouldn’t notice if they had. The old times were good because then we were young, and ignorant of how ignorant the young can be.

J. Barnes, Flaubert's Parrot (1984), 199

I feel sorry for novelists when they have to mention women's eyes

I feel sorry for novelists when they have to mention women's eyes: there's so little choice, and whatever colouring is decided upon inevitably carries banal implications. Her eyes are blue: innocence and honesty. Her eyes are black: passion and depth. Her eyes are green: wildness and jealousy. Her eyes are brown: reliability and common sense. Her eyes are violet: the novel is by Raymond Chandler.

J. Barnes, Flaubert's Parrot (1984), 85

'I live alone, like a bear.'

'I [Flaubert] live alone, like a bear.' (The word 'alone' in this sentence is best glossed as: 'alone except for my parents, my sister, the servants, our dog, Caroline's goat, and my regular visits from Alfred le Poittevin'.)

J. Barnes, Flaubert's Parrot (1984), 48