Any messages for me?" Usually I got one or two, but mostly people who wanted my help preferred to talk in person. "Yes. Hold on." She pulled out a handful of pink tickets and recited from memory, without checking the paper. "Seven forty-two a.m., Mr. Gasparian: I curse you. I curse your arms so they wither and die and fall off your body. I curse your eyeballs to explode. I curse your feet to swell until blue. I curse your spine to crack. I curse you. I curse you. I curse you.

Yep.” Eloquence ’R’ Us. When in trouble, keep it monosyllabic—safer that way.

I don't trust tragedies much. It's easy to make a person sad by showing him something tragic. We all recognize when sad things happen: someone dies, someone loses a loved one, young love is crushed. It's much harder to make a man laugh-what's funny to one person isn't funny to another.

I can't hate people that much. Don't get me wrong. I want to murder every last Keeper I can find. But that's not hate. That's vengeance.

You're not going to die?" "Not right this minute." And of course, saying something like that usually resulted in immediate dying. I braced myself for a stray meteorite falling through the roof to crush my skull.

I prefer the term ‘sexual deviant’ myself,” Saiman said.

Is there a cookie at the end of this lecture? ... I got a cookie after all ... Dear god, the cookie was poisoned.