Trust me. I haven't been wrong yet.

I am charging you with the protection of my mother and friends, not to mention keeping my younger self off the Internet. He is as dangerous as Opal.

He threw his head back and sang, "'I am a centaur, yes, a centaur is what I am.' It's not like you to wax, Artemis" "Foaly is singing," said Holly. "Surely that's illegal?

Everyone says that I have no sense of humor, then I construct a perfectly sound pun around a well-known psychological condition, and it is ignored.

Very well. I understand. Just ... shut up!

Don't you worry about that, Mr. Adamsson. Why don't you head back to Reykjavik and spend some of that extortionate fee you charged me for a couple of hours' usage of your frankly third-rate restaurant and perhaps find a friendless tree stump to listen to your woes?

Miss me? Bet you did ... so would I.