The characters within a book were, from a certain point of view, identical on some fundamental level ‒ there weren't any images of them, no physical tangibility whatsoever. They were pictures in the reader's head, constructs of imagination and ideas, given shape by the writer's work and skill and the reader's imagination. Parents, of a sort.

Sheep can befriend a hungry wolf only for briefly.

Keep it up, wise guy. I'm always going to be taller than you once you're lying unconscious on the ground.

People have far more power than they realize, if they would only choose to use it.

Answer my question, Dresden,' Nicodemus growled. 'What is that?' 'A precaution against getting stuck in deep snow,' I said. 'He's training to be a Saint Bernard.' 'Excuse me?' Nicodemus said. I mimed covering one of Mouse's ears with my hand and stage-whispered, 'Don't tell him that they don't actually carry kegs of booze on their collars. Break his little heart.

Got to die of something," Giraldi observed. "Might as well put back a few pints while you wait to see what it is.

Laugh whenever you can. Keeps you from killing yourself when things are bad. That and vodka.