I realise people exist who don't read. But it's like I knew there were people who didn't breathe or eat: I can't imagine a life like that.

You're dying every minute, but you won't die yet.

The cut in Nick's arm was starting to throb dully with the pressure he was putting on it. He kept looking at Alan. 'How many times have you lied to me?' he asked in a soft voice. Alan replied, equally softly, 'I've lost count.

Well, speaking as a feminist, I'm glad that women can lead--uh, groups of unspeakable magical evil." "Yes," Alan said gravely. "It'd be shoking if the evil magicians were sexist. For one thing, that would mean they were stupid, and having stupid enemies would be a terrible blow to my manly pride.

I read The Hunger Games voraciously and was extremely annoyed when interrupted by such inconsequential things as 'Christmas dinner.' (God, Mom, did you not understand Katniss was being pursued by the mutts? You have several children, why does it always have to be about collecting the whole set all the time?)

If the truth didn't help anyone, and love didn't last, what was there left to struggle toward?

Do you mean am I worried about people seeing me with my jeans off? Sure. Sometimes people are overcome. They fall down. They hit their heads. It's worrying.