I don't judge you for what you've done, Gin. Why are you judging me for another man's mistakes?

They’d played “Sweet Home, Alabama” so many times I wanted to crash the party, kill the radio, and knife whoever was selecting the music.

All I'm saying is that I understand if the novelty's worn off and you want to get off the carousel ride now before it kills you.

And I was stuck here at Warrior Freaks R Us.

Keep the change, Gin," McCallister said in a smarmy, mocking voice. "Consider it an early Christmas present." "Aw," I drawled. "A whopping thirteen cents. You're too kind, Jonah. Why, you'd put Ebezener Scrooge to shame with your bighearted generosity.

Don't you agree, fuzzball?

I was so getting tired of fighting for my life in the library.