I promise to charm the dickens out of him,' said Will, sitting up and readjusting his crushed hat. 'I shall charm him with such force that when I am done, he will be left lying limply on the ground, trying to remember his own name.' 'The man's eighty-nine', muttered Jem. 'He may well have the problem anyway.

Perhaps not," said Will, who had ears like a bat's. "But I would make a radiant bride.

What is this?” he went on now, spearing an unfortunate object on a fork and raising it to eye level. “This… this… thing?” “A parsnip?” Jem suggested. “A parsnip planted in Satan’s own garden.” said Will. He glanced about. “I don’t suppose there’s a dog I could feed it to.” “There don’t seem to be any pets about,” Jem—who loved all animals, even the inglorious and ill-tempered Church—observed. “Probably all poisoned by parsnips,” said Will.

Filters are for cigarrettes and coffee," Simon muttered under his breath as they went inside. "Two things I could use right now, incidentally.

Her throat ached: adoration, heartbreak, in equal measure. “Kiss me,” she said. “Please.

That was the justice of Heaven. I trust that you are not dismayed.

Love did not overcome everything. Love did not always endure. All you had could be taken away, love could be the last thing you had, and then love could be taken too.