I see you've decided to take my advice after all, Richard." Lady Wendall's amused voice said from somewhere above and behind him. "Marrying your ward is *exactly* the sort of usual scandal I had in mind: I wonder it didn't occur to me before.

May you and your triple cursed wash water turn purple with orange spots and fall down a bottomless pit!

She probably enjoys cutting up everyone's happiness. Not to mention cutting up other parts of people; given her penchant for poisoning people and turning them into beech trees, I fail to see how she has reached thirty without leaving a trail of bodies behind her.

He pushed his glasses up on his nose and gave me a sidelong look, the one that meant he was so sure you were wrong that he could just wait and let you find out for yourself the hard way.

No proper princess would come out looking for dragons," Woraug objected. "Well I'm not a proper princess then!" Cimorene snapped. "I make cherries jubillee and I volunteer for dragons, and I conjugate Latin verbs-- or at least I would if anyone would let me. So there!

Out here, it's better safe than sorry, because generally speaking, too much of the time sorry means you're dead.

He wasn't a medical doctor, just educated all the way up as far as you can get.