You've been reading Gordan's book again, haven't you?" "It's a white-knuckle roller-coaster ride," she mumbled.

Are you taking my hat hostage?

What?" she asked again. He pointed ahead of them. "See that?" "What, the snow?" "Beyond that." "More snow?" "Stop looking at the snow.

I try not to underestimate my opponents, no matter how ridiculous their beards.

We're not robbing him," Skulduggery said." But I'm afraid I have some bad news." "Is it Deacon?" Francine asked, her eyes wide. "It is." "Is he sick?" "It's a little worse than that." She gasped. "He's dying?" "He was briefly dying," said Skulduggery. "Now he's dead.

You be sure to throw the book at him, you hear me? I feel violated, Detective. Violated." "I'll throw this table at you if you don't give us the names we're looking for.

Tides do what tides do – they turn.