I am a total zombie just after I wake up. It takes me half an hour even to get my eyes open. Ask anyone who knows me. I can't see; I can't talk properly; I can't do anything without help. The only think I can do properly is think. And I know how to exploit my condition. I've had years of practice.

I’m beginning to think I’ve led a much too sheltered life.

I am a believer in free will. If my dog chooses to hate the whole human race except myself, it must be free to do so.

Nobody gets praised for the right reasons.

Howl’s voice was presently heard shouting weakly, “Help me, someone! I’m dying from neglect up here!

I've got a hangover." "No, you hit your head on the floor." "I can't stay. I've got to rescue that fool Sophie.

But I discovered that people like me -- they do, you know, if you like them -- and then it was all right.