I... do... not... do... lightning.

What is that in his hand?" "A cleaver. As in-" "Butcher's knife." "You got it." "I hope not." "He does not look happy." "Are you sure it's a he?" "I don't want to know.

The boys had asked why, if it acted slowly, was it called quicksand. The Mollusks had replied that, as far as they were concerned, most English names for things were silly. The word that they used for quicksand was a deep grunt that translated roughly to "uh-oh.

True love isn't reserved for weddings and ceremonies. It's from the heart. That's all it has to be. All it ever is.

Wayne was one of the worst drivers Finn had ever met. The bus nearly sideswiped two cars, then veered left and scraped its wheels against the curb, before smashing back down the roadway.

Being a fiction writer is really like being an actor, because if you're going to write convincingly it has to sound right and play right. The only way that works is to emotionally and technically act out and see the scene you're in. There's no better job in the world, because when I sit down at that computer I'm the world's best forensics expert, if that's what I'm writing about that day. Or I'm some crazed psycho running down a dark alley. Or I'm a gorgeous woman looking to find a man that night. Whatever! But I'm all of those things, every day. How can you beat that?

Okay, so let's run faster.