For fun? Maybe evil is an art form.

Small steps to the madhouse still get us there at last

Galinda didn't often stop to consider whether she believed in what she said or not; the whole point of conversations was flow.

Those times are over and gone, and good riddance to them, too. We were hopelessly high-spirited. Now we're the tick-waisted generation, dragging along our children behind us and carrying our parents on our backs. And we're in charge, while the figures who used to command our respect are wasting away.

Just my luck, if I believed in luck. I only believe in the opposite of luck, whatever that is.

In the lives of children, pumpkins turn into coaches, mice and rats turn into men. When we grow up, we realize it is far more common for men to turn into rats.

The more civilized we become, the more horrendous our entertainments.