The problem with being clever, Serene thought with a sigh, is that everyone assumes you're always planning something.

So, using his pride like a shield against despair, dejection, and-most important— self-pity, Raoden raised his head to stare damnation in the eyes.

Raoden turned to regard the large Dula. "What does it matter? It's not like we have anything pressing to do. It's actually quite pleasant up here—you should just sit back and enjoy it." An ominous crash came from the clouds above them, and Raoden felt a wet drop splat against his head. "Fantastic," Galladon grumbled. "I'm enjoying myself already.

At times, it seems to me that to be human is to want that which we cannot have. For some, this is power. For me, it is peace.

Not all librarians are evil cultists. Some librarians are instead vengeful undead who want to suck your soul.

They tried boiling books, but that didn't work very well." "I'm surprised they haven't tried boiling one another." "Oh, it's been tried," Galladon said. "Fortunately. something happens to us during the Shaod—apparently the flesh of a dead man doesn't taste too good. Kolo? In fact, it's so violently bitter that no one can keep it down." "It's nice to see that cannibalism has been so logically ruled out as an option," Raoden said dryly

I froze, shocked. (And don't try to clam that you did anything different the first time a government bureaucrat pulled a gun on you.)