I put it down to the paranoia of advancing age. It isn't like I'm all that old or anything, especially for a wizard, but age is always advancing and I'm fairly sure it's up to no good.

If your opponent has you by fifty pounds, winning a fight against him is a dubious proposition, at best. If your opponent has you by eight thousand and fifty pounds, you’ve left the realm of combat and enrolled yourself in Road-kill 101. Or possibly in a Tom and Jerry cartoon.

A technicality I'm prepared to hide wildly behind.

At the moment I was mad enough to chew up nails and spit out paper clips.

I've always admired your ability to be unilaterally irritating.

I stared up at the Erlking, and with my typical pithy brilliance said, "Uh-oh.

Doroga thumped a finger against his skull. Head got nothing to do with the heart. Your heart wants what it wants. Head got to learn that it can only kill the heart or else get out of the way