She's kind of like a Mary Poppins just before she turns to the dark side of the Force," Oberon said. He was still behind the counter, but he had a good lok at her as she exited. "Let go of your anger, Malina! There's still good in you! The Emperor hasn't driven it from you fully!

I had privately changed 'This, too, shall pass' into 'You, too, shall die'.

The royal hound's belly demands rubbing. Step lively, humans, neglect me not." ~Oberon

Granuaile looked terminally depressed when she emerged from the bathroom with raven hair and, as a result rather Goth by accident. She didn't want to get her picture taken. "Aughh!" she said miserably, looking in the vanity mirror in the truck of the cab and fingering a wavy curl near her temple. "This sucks more than anything has ever sucked before. You know what we look like? A couple of emo douche bags." "Well, look at the bright side, Granuaile. Emo Douche Bags would be a great band name." [That's brilliant! It's already the unofficial name of more bands than I can count.]

Bullshit, as you Americans say. He's Irish. The Irish say bullshit too.

Wisdom eludes me yet, but foolishness I captured long ago and to this day it is my constant companion, though many people consider me wise.

Brighid’s eyes flashed with a blue flame, and I wondered if she had learned to do that just so she could compete with the Morrigan’s red flashes. Maybe I should try to figure out how to make my eyes flash green so I could freak out the baristas at Starbucks. “No, you foolish mortal,” I’d say as my eyes glowed, “I ordered a nonfat latte.