Granny knew all about bad fortune-telling. It was harder than the real thing. You needed a good imagination.

There would be a price... But if you were worried about the price, then why were you in the shop?

NAUGHTY AND NICE? said Death. BUT IT'S EASY TO BE NICE IF YOU'RE RICH. IS THIS FAIR? Albert wanted to argue. He wanted to say, Really? In that case, how come so many of the rich buggers is bastards? And being poor don't mean being naughty, neither.

An author writes a book, and that's the book at that point. And if the author writes the book again, then somehow something has gone wrong, if you see what I mean.

Or -- and this she knew was a far more accurate way of looking at it -- the book was true and reality was lying.

‎No one remembers the singer. The song remains.

Scientists have calculated that the chances of something so patently absurd actually existing are millions to one. But magicians have calculated that million-to-one chances crop up nine times out of ten.