Ah, Morganville. Where dressing to hide bloodstains was just good daily planning.

Don't play his game. Play yours.

If you ask me if I'm okay again, I'm going to smack myself in the face just to punish you.

You’re kind of a psycho. I get that.” “I might be,” Monica agreed, and gave her a slow, strange smile. “You’re one smart little freak. Now run away, smart little freak, before I change my mind and stick you in one of these old suitcases for some architect to find a hundred years from now.” Claire blinked. “Archaeologist.” Monica’s eyes turned winter cold. “Oh, you’d better start running away now.

If Myrnin pokes his crazy head up before then, call me and try to keep him, you know, stable.' 'Is he UNstable?' 'I don't know, how can I tell? You're the crazy whisperer!' She had a point. Claire couldn't help but smile about that.

In any group of people, no matter how hard-assed they might appear, there’s always a geek.

Follow me,” Myrnin said. “And do stay together. And by the way, this is the last time I go anywhere with you people. You are all insane.