I should go in alone," Valkyrie said, speaking loudly to be heard. "If we both go in, it'll look to official." "So I'll just stay out here?" Skulduggery asked. "But what'll I do? There's no one to talk to. It's boring." "You're standing on the roof of a train," Valkyrie pointed out. "If you find this boring, you really need your head examined. Just wait here. I'll do what has to be done and I'll be find out. "Fine," he said, sounding grumpy. "Don't be long.

The Torment turned his head to him, and frowned. "Who are you?" "I'm... sorry? It's me, it's Vaurien. Vaurien Scapegrace. I... built the cellar for you?" "Oh," the Torment said. "You. Why are you back? I thought you were dead. It would have been nice if you were dead

I kill a sofa for you and you go and sit in a chair?” Skulduggery asked. “I don’t think you appreciate the sacrifice that has been made for you.

You have no idea the power generated each time somebody is told a story. When a conscious, sentient mind willingly ignores what is real, what is fact, and instead chooses to invest in people and places that never existed...It's magnificent.

The sparrow flies south for the winter.

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.

She glared at him. 'I'm not weird like that. I'm good weird. I'm cool weird.' 'Yes,' he said doubtfully. 'Yes, you are.