You're under arrest for multiple counts of murder. You have the right to not much at all, really. Do you have anything to say in your defense?

She turned to Skulduggery and held out her arms. “Come here, you.” He tilted his head. “My hugs are for special occasions only.” “Hug me.” “I prefer the old tradition.” “Hug.” “Would a handshake do?” “Hug.” “A pat on the back?” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms round him. “Hug,” she said. He sighed, and his hands settled on her shoulders. The others were warm and their embraces strong – with Skulduggery the hug was cold, and there were areas on his jacket that gave way beneath her fingers, and she could feel the emptiness within. She didn’t mind.

She's you, without your conscience, or your feelings. She's you without your humanity." "You're saying she's a mood swing?" He shrugged. "Or maybe you're her mood swing." "Don't even joke about that.

I'm fairly certain. I could be some ghastly hallucination, a figment of my own imagination

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.

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

Tides do what tides do – they turn.