I let out a battle cry. Sure, a lot of people might have mistaken it for a sudden yelp of unmanly fear, but trust me. It was a battle cry.

I could buy that she would murder me in a fit of rage, poison me out of flaming jealousy, or bomb my car out of sheer, stubborn pique. But she would never do it and feel nothing.

We've both got into the blue beetle. He got into the red door, I got into the white one.

My friend is going to save a little girl from monsters. I am going with him. That's what friends do.

Molly blinked, then looked at Thomas and said, "Wait a minute.... We're his flunkies." "You, may be," Thomas said, sneering. "I'm his thug. I'm way higher than a flunky." "You are high if you think I'm taking any orders from you," Molly said tartly.

The mad rarely know that they are mad. It's the rest of the world, I think, that seems insane to them.

Night wasn't so much falling as sharpening its claws.