Nobody got me out," Nellie replied. "They just let me go. They think I'm a deranged Jonah Wizard fan. Apparently, the hotel's full of them. A couple of idiots actually jumped off the front balcony. Can you picture that?" "In Technicolor," Amy said bitterly. "That low-down KGB reject!" Dan fumed. "I can't believe she cheated me–right when I was in the middle of cheating her!

When we lock things away," he said with conviction, "we're really imprisoning ourselves.

Ask yourself: 'Do I feel the need to laminate?' Then teaching is for you.

A bronze plaque read: GAIUS PLINIUS CAECILIUS SECUNDUS Dan made a face. "Get a load of the guy with the funny name." "I think that's Pliny the younger, the famous Roman writer," Amy supplied. She bent down to read the English portion of the tablet. "Right. In A.D. 79, Pliny chronicled the destruction of Pompeii by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius. It's one of the earliest eyewitness accounts of a major disaster." Dan yawned. "Doesn't this remind you of the clue hunt? You know–you telling me a bunch of boring stuff, and me not listening?

Slime him, sis," Dan urged, "Make him a redcoat.

Don't think of it as losing a boyfriend. Think of it as gaining a stalker." -Dan Cahill

The dog always dies. Go to the library and pick out a book with an award sticker and a dog on the cover. Trust me, that dog is going down.