Anyone who thinks cryptozoology is the study of the impossible has never really taken a very good look at the so-called "natural world." Once you get past the megamouth sharks, naked mole rats, and spotted hyenas, then the basilisks, dragons, and cuckoos just don't seem that unreasonable. Unpleasant, yes, but unreasonable? Not really.

Since Dominic's been sleeping with me, the mice have been trying various labels on him, looking for one that fits. My personal favorite was the week they spent calling him "the God of Absolutely Never Smiling, No, Not Ever.

See, Quentin, that’s why you should wear a cup before trying to assassinate someone.

There weren’t any fairy tales in the streets around me. If there was ever a Cinderella, her glass slippers shattered under her weight and she limped home bleeding from the ball.

Tybalt’s what we call ‘Cait Sidhe’— the fairy cats. Which explains the attitude. And the eyes.” “Meow,” said Tybalt, deadpan.

He's going to be okay," said Quentin. "He has to. He's Tybalt. You'd be all weird and irritating if he wasn't around." "Weird and irritating?" I raised an eyebrow. "What gives you that idea?" Quentin shrugged. "That's already how you get when he isn't around.

Danger is a side effect of what I do, not the reason behind it.