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.

Either that boy is the sanest creature on Earth, he thought, or he is so disturbed that our tests cannot even begin to scratch the surface.

The sarcasm made a slight whistling noise as it flew over Loafers' head.

Artemis: (shocked) Why, Doctor? This is a sensitive area. For all you know I could be suffering from depression. Doctor Po: I suppose you could. Is that the case? Artemis: (head in hands) It's my mother, Doctor. Doctor Po: Yes? Artemis: My mother, she... Doctor Po: Your mother, yes? Artemis: She forces me to endure this ridiculous therapy when the school's so-called counsellors are little better than misguided do-gooders with degrees.

'Insanity... I like it."

I have to tell you, Arty, a screw up this early in the proceedings doesn't exactly fill me with confidence. I hope you're as clever as you keep telling everyone you are." "I never tell anybody exactly how clever I am. They would be too scared.

A fifeteen-year old, of to save the world, with faries. - Angeline Fowl