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

By the time they got to Denholm Street, day had been beaten back and the night was soaking through the city.

Talking about one's feelings defeats the purpose of having those feelings. Once you try to put the human experience into words, it becomes little more than a spectator sport. Everything must have a cause, and a name. Every random thought must have a root in something else.

The problem with living so long is that we get used to it. We watch the mortals age and wither and die around us, watch the world change and decay...but no matter the hardship or the pain or the sorrow we suffer, we choose to continue living. Out of sheer habit, I think.

Other stories tell how I eat innocent newborns, how I’m ten feet tall, how I breathe fire and have great dragon wings. None of these are wholly accurate. I don’t have dragon wings, I don’t breathe fire, I’m only eight feet tall and I’ve never eaten a newborn that didn’t have it coming. My name is Mevolent. What’s yours?

So what does that actually mean?' 'To be honest, Ghastly, I haven't a bull's notion.' 'Elder Bespoke should be addressed by his full title,' Tipstaff said. 'Of course,' Skulduggery said. 'To be honest, Your Highness, I haven't a bull's notion.

We're here on Sanctuary business," Skulduggery tried. The man on Deadfall's right bristled, and Deadfall grinned. "Hear that, Pete? They're with that Sanctuary." Hokum Pete snarled. "I hate the Sanctuary." "Oh," Skulduggery said. "We all hate the Sanctuary." "Ah. Then we're not here on Sanctuary business. I was just joking.