Up until now I'd always though RSI meant 'I hate my damn job'.

You’d better tell me what you know, toad,” said Tiffany. “Miss Tick isn’t here. I am.” “Another world is colliding with this one,” said the toad. “There. Happy now? That’s what Miss Tick thinks. But it’s happening faster than she expected. All the monsters are coming back.” “Why?” “There’s no one to stop them.” There was silence for a moment. “There’s me,” said Tiffany.

There is a rumour going around that I have found God. I think this is unlikely because I have enough difficulty finding my keys, and there is empirical evidence that they exist.

I grow as many of our vegetables as I can, because my granddad was a professional gardener, and it's in the blood.

A good plan isn't one where someone wins, it's where nobody thinks they've lost.

Them as can do has to do for them as can't. And someone has to speak up for them as has no voices.

No matter what she did with her hair it took about three minutes for it to tangle itself up again, like a garden hosepipe in a shed [Which, no matter how carefully coiled, will always uncoil overnight and tie the lawnmower to the bicycles].