The Baron, unfortunately, turns it all the way up to eleven." "Seriously? Because, you know, that's one more evil

Of course I want to kill you," said Skulduggery. "I want to kill most people. But then where would I be? In a field of dead people with no one to talk to.

Just leave her alone. You're annoying her.' 'I'm not annoying her. She doesn't even know how to be annoyed. She's, what, a week old?' 'She's three months.' 'She's three months in our years, but what is she in baby years?

Don’t kill me,” he sobbed as he lay there. “Oh God, please don’t kill me.” “If you had let me finish,” Skulduggery said, slightly annoyed, “you would have heard me say, ‘Come out, we’re not going to hurt you’. Idiot.” “He probably wouldn’t have said idiot,” Valkyrie told the sobbing man. “We’re trying our best to be nice.” The man blinked through his tears, and looked up. “You’re... You’re not going to kill me?” “No, we’re not,” Valkyrie said gently, “so long as you wipe your nose right now.

Every human being who has ever lived has the same potential in them for good and evil. Mortal or sorcerer, it doesn't matter. Power has a way of bringing out the worst in people. Mevolent. Serpine. Hitler. Lord Vile. Darquesse. We're all the same." "You just put me on a list with Hitler." "You're going to start sulking again, aren't you?

Wait, do they even know I'm coming with you?" "No. But they like surprises. Almost always.

I don’t want a perfectly safe weapon. I want a dangerous weapon that hurts people.” He took the stick from her, rapped it against her head. She howled and he nodded. “See? It hurts people.