This is your one chance. Tell me where the key is." "Okay." Serpine raised an eyebrow. "Really?" "No, only joking. Do your worst.

Suddenly Saracen Rue looked old and tired, and Skulduggery Pleasant came into focus as what he really was – a genius, a killer, a tortured soul, and the only true dead man among them.

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.

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?

Oh, China. How I have missed you.' 'And I have missed you, Eliza. But don't worry, next time my aim will be better.

Absolutely. I would never have tripped. I'm far too graceful

I swear, talking to you is like talking to a really good-looking and mildly stupid brick wall.