That, dillop brain, is what getting close to the Darke does. It makes you think only of yourself. It takes you away from people you care about. And now you don't have anyone to talk to and it serves you right.

He was not used to the smell of dragon breath, which is best described as a combination of the stench of burning rubber and the stink of old socks, with overtones of a hamster cage in dire need of a cleaning.

Shouting something didn't make it any more possible.

I really like Septimus Heap. he is my favorite guy in the story. I should make you all read it.

There's no way the new chimney will fall down, Lu. Not with you in charge. It wouldn't dare.

Things have a habit of working out, you know. Eventually.

You could give us a hand instead of staring into space like a constipated camel," Terry Tarsal rudley broke into Marcia's spinning thoughts.