Something about her suggested that her leisure activities included wrestling large woodland animals and banging bricks together.

You'd been petting a stuffed dog?' she said 'A dead one?' 'It was a really well stuffed dog' I clarified. 'I have seen some bad taxidermy. This was top-notch work. It would have fooled anyone.

You can never visit the same place twice. Each time, it's a different story. By the very act of coming back, you wipe out what came before.

She wasn't only gay, she was a gay elf.

She didn't even notice right away that a small animal had come out from behind a nearby car and was slowly making its way toward the trash can she was standing near. She flipped through some old files in her mind, trying to come up with what this thing might be, and after a few seconds decided that--impossible as it seemed--it was a fox.

Guilt isn't always a rational thing, Clio realized. Guilt is a weight that will crush you whether you deserve it or not.

I had always assumed the weekend was a holy tradition, respected by good people everywhere. Not so at Wexford.