I kill a sofa for you and you go and sit in a chair?” Skulduggery asked. “I don’t think you appreciate the sacrifice that has been made for you.

Being a detective isn't all about torture and murder and monsters. Sometimes it gets truly unpleasant...The fate of the world may depend on whether or not you can bring yourself to visit your relatives.

Where are you going?" "Nowhere special. I just have some... things to do." "Why did you pause?' "I'm sorry?" "You paused. You have 'some... things to do.' "No reason, I just--" "You're up to something." "No--" "Then why'd you pause?" "Get in the car." She got in. He got in. "Seat belt," he said. Why'd you pause?" His head drooped. "Because I'm up to somthing." "And why can't I come with you?" "Because it's something sneaky." "Do you promise to tell me later?" "I do." "Well all right then." She clicked her seat belt into place. "Let's go.

I'm sorry? No more smooches is worse than the world ending?

Mum said earlier what a lovely dress you’re wearing.” Beryl’s eyebrows wriggled like two tiny tapeworms. “This?” she said. “But I’ve had this for years.” It was a beige dress that would have looked better on an eighty year-old. Any eighty-year-old, man or woman. “I think you’ve really grown into it,” Valkyrie said. “I always thought it was a little shapeless.” Valkyrie resisted the urge to say that was what she meant.

Do you think it would be quite so easy to kill them now that your weapon has been destroyed?' he sneered. 'No,' she said, frowning at him, 'Obviously not.

I'm placing you under arrest for murder, conspiracy to commit murder and, I don't know, possibly littering.