Back in middle school, Catherine and I had gone through this stage where all we would read were fantasy books. We'd consume them like M&M's, by the fistful, J.R.R. Tolkien and Terry Brooks and Susan Cooper and Lloyd Alexander. Susan Boone looked, to me, like the queen of the elves (there's almost always an elf queen in fantasy books). I mean, she was shorter than me and had on a strange lineny outfit in pale blues and greens.

No offense, but if you want to be with my niece, you should think about getting a haircut. My mother is very conservative.” “No offense taken,” John said mildly.

What's a mediator you ask? Oh, a person who acts as a liason between the living and the dead. Hey, wait a minute...what're you doing with that strait jacket?-Suze Simon's imagination

It’s my own fault, really. For believing in fairy tales. Not that I ever mistook them for actual historical fact, or anything. But I did grow up believing that for every girl, there’s a prince out there somewhere. All she has to do is find him. Then it’s on with the happily ever after. So you can only imagine what happened when I found out. That my prince really IS one. A prince. No, I really mean it. He’s an actual PRINCE.

Anything can happen in the blink of an eye. Anything at all. One. Two. Three. Blink.

Tell me Jesse, does she sigh when you kiss her too

Only a fool is never afraid, Frank. Heroes are the people who carry on despite their fear, because they know the job’s got to get done