Aziraphale. The Enemy, of course. But an enemy for six thousand years now, which made him a sort of friend.

… you were so worried about legal and illegal that you never stopped to think about whether it was right or wrong.

You did something because it had always been done, and the explanation was, ‘But we’ve always done it this way.’ A million dead people can’t have been wrong, can they?

A weapon you held and didn't know how to use belonged to your enemy.

The only really sane person in there is Igor, and possibly the turnip. And I'm not sure about the turnip.

Stupid men are often capable of things the clever would not dare to contemplate.

When much is taken, something is returned.