Ninety percent of true love is acute, ear-burning embarrassment.

Now that their long war was over, they could get on with the proper concern of all civilised nations, which is to prepare for the next one.

This was not a fairy-tale castle and there was no such thing as a fairy-tale ending, but sometimes you could threaten to kick the handsome prince in the ham-and-eggs.

In theory it was, around now, Literature. Susan hated Literature. She'd much prefer to read a good book.

He's out of his depth on a wet pavement.

Ponder just let it happen. It's because their minds are so often involved with deep and problematic matters, he told himself, that their mouths are allowed to wander around making a nuisance of themselves.

Got to be worth a try, I suppose," said Crowley. "It's not as if I haven't got lots of other work to do, God knows." His forehead creased for a moment, and then he slapped the steering wheel triumphantly. "Ducks!" he shouted. "What?" "That's what water slides off!" Aziraphale took a deep breath. "Just drive the car, please," he said wearily.