All right. Normal rules apply." "Right." The man walked off, leaving us. "What are the normal rules?" I asked. "He walks away and has a tea break and doesn't ask any questions.

Writing is one of the few careers for which you essentially train yourself, the other two major ones being juggling and pickpocketing.

This is England," he explained. "Tell someone it's a procedure, and they'll believe you. The pointless procedure is one of our great natural resources.

Keep calm and carry on. Also, stay in and hide because the Ripper is coming.

We study there a lot because... what other choice does society give us, right? It's Starbucks or death, sometimes.

I try to shake it loose-but these ideas, they cling. It's like I'm shackled to them with an iron chain. They rattle along behind me, dragging against the ground, always reminding me of their presence.

She firmly held the theory that everyone gets at least one very stupid superpower.