Does he have a nickname?' Diana went on remorselessly. 'I mean, 'gaiphage' is so long. Can we call him phage? Or maybe just 'G'?

They said a lot of things to each other that night, but nothing that involved words.

The warrior who had gone out from the lake to save his people by slaying the evil one was now just a boy sitting in the dirt with his fingers in a mane of blond hair. He stared at nothing. Expected nothing. Planned nothing. Just sat.

Paranoia," Sam muttered. "You're going slowly nuts, dude. Or maybe not so slowly, since you're talking to yourself.

He wanted to go running home to Mommy, what can I say? Of course, it's hard for me to believe that anyone would choose to step out of the FAYZ. I mean, where else do you get to eat rats, use your backyard for a toilet, and live in fear for nineteen different kinds of scary?" -Howard

Beautiful songs could sometimes take a person out of themselves and carry them away to a place of magic. But when Jill sang, it was not about the song, really. She could sing the phone book. She could sing a shopping list. Whatever she sang, whatever the words or the tune, it was so beautiful, so achingly lovely, that no one could listen and be untouched.

You don't look so much like a great hero,' Jarrah said. 'I'm pretty sure I'm not,' Mack said wearily. 'My throat is hoarse from screaming in terror. I don't think heroes have that problem.