Grab some caviar from the kitchen. You wouldn't believe the muck they feed us in Bartleby's for ten thousand a term.

If I win, I'm a prodigy. If I lose, then I'm crazy. That's the way history is written.

So, what did you get for me?" Angeline paused for a beat. "Jeans." "What?" croaked Artemis. "And a T-shirt.

I want you to know, my dear friend, that without you, I would not be the person I am today." He leaned in close and whispered, "I was a broken boy, and you fixed me. Thank you.

I waved my hand in front of my face, obi-wan style. "I am not here." Niall's mucas glands kicked into overdrive. "Eoin's dead! And his ghost is standing right there on the grass!" Donal let out a long suffering sigh. "Eoin is being a writer." Niall calmed down, becuase everyone knows writers are weird and are always doing stupid thingss.

I don't like lollipops.

Tea? At the beach? No time for luxuries, Holly. There is important work to be done.” He winked at Butler. “Are you sure you’re at the library? I thought I heard water.” Artemis smiled, enjoying the exchange. “Water? Surely not. The only thing flowing here is information.” “Are you grinning, Artemis? For some reason I get the feeling that you’re wearing that smug smile of yours.