He..." Richard began. "The marquis. Well, you know, to be honest, he seems a little bit dodgy to me." Door stopped. The steps dead-ended in a rough brick wall. "Mm," she agreed. "He's a little bit dodgy in the same way that rats are a little bit covered in fur.

Stories you read when you're the right age never quite leave you. You may forget who wrote them or what the story was called.

I told you I would tell you my names. This is what they call me. I'm called Glad-of-War, Grim, Raider, and Third. I am One-Eyed. I am called Highest, and True-Guesser. I am Grimnir, and I am the Hooded One. I am All-Father, and I am Gondlir Wand-Bearer. I have as many names as there are winds, as many titles as there are ways to die. My ravens are Huginn and Muninn, Thought and Memory; my wolves are Freki and Geri; my horse is the gallows.

That's sexism, that is. Going around giving people girly presents just because they're a girl.

When you say words a lot they don't mean anything. Or maybe they don't mean anything anyway, and we just think they do.

I think I’ll dismember the world and then I’ll dance in the wreckage.

It is your differences that make you glorious.