He wanted to heave the glasses against the wall. Break them, break everything he could reach. Beat it, rend it. He stared out the window, imagined the city in flames, consumed to ashes. And still it wasn't enough.

You spend your life getting walked on, you learn to recognize the tread.

It takes a lot of spine and stomach to make yourself into something when no one gives you a foundation.

Give them your brains, girl, never your guts.

I long for typical days, but rarely get them any more.

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.

He was one of the many toads you have to go through to find the prince.