Life--you have to live it as it comes.

He looked around when he heard a window-rattling roar. "Earthquake? Volcano? Nuclear war?" "Beaver," Peter told him. "I don't care if it is Alaska, you don't have beavers big enough to sound like that.

Happily ever after?" "If justice doesn't triumph and love doesn't make the circle in entertainment fiction, what's the point? Real life sucks too often.

You are wise as well as short." "I can also break bricks with my bare hands." "That's a handy skill if you ever find yourself walled up in the basement of an abandoned house by a psychopath.

And since I’m marrying into the Quartet, I have certain privileges and duties. If you’re sleeping with Laurel—” “I’m not sleeping with Laurel. We’re dating.” “Right, and the two of you are just going to hold hands, admire the moon, and sing camp songs.” “For a while. Minus the singing.

It was a joint, which put it one slippery step up from a dive.

I want you to take note, Commander, that turning in my badge would be like cutting off my arm. But if it comes down to a choice between the job and my marriage, then I lose the arm.