Angel: And what will you do with the world, once it is yours?' N. Hob: 'Punish it, for not loving me.

Never go anywhere without condiments. Condiments are our friends.

Because nothing makes love and life matter more than the knowledge that some day it must end.

There are any number of magical creatures, mostly female, whose singing can bring about horror and death. Sirens, undines, banshees, Bananarama tribute bands...

You want me to sneak up on an angel and rip out its pinfeathers, so you can make a fashion statement?

Nothing is hidden, nothing is ever lost, nothing is ever forgotten. That's always been part of my problem.

Books can be terrible snobs.