Screw that, the questionn at hand is what's your major?" Oded said. "Because let me tell you right now, any answer other than World of Warcraft or Advanced Ninja Studies will not be accepted.

And before you ask, no, you're not driving, Myrnin. I remember the last time." "That accident was not my fault." "You were the only one on the road, and the mailbox actually didn't leap out in front of you. No arguments. You sit in the back, too.

Claire was struggling through last summer’s diary volume when Myrnin popped in through the portal, wearing a big floppy black hat and a kind of crazy/stylish pimp coat that covered him from neck to ankles, black leather gloves, and a black and silver walking stick with a dragon’s head on it. And, on his lapel was a button that said, If you can read this, thank a teacher.

You know what I mean. And by the way, you should slow down.” I sighed. “You’re kidding me. This is coasting. This is little old lady speed.” “NASCAR drivers would have heart attacks. Slow down before we get a ticket.” “Chicken.

She can go with us to the lab and keep Myrnin pinned down while we pull the plug, if he's not... you know, better." "Define BETTER with that guy." "Not all fangs and raaaaar.

It's an illusion, control," Naomi said. "You ought to understand that by now, young Claire. We are never in control of our destinies, even the strongest of us. All we can hope to do is not be too badly damaged by events.

Oliver: You turned me down. So why, I wonder, did you decide Amelie would be a better choice? Claire: She smells better. And she made me cookies.