I dinna trust him," said Slightly Mad Angus. "He reads books an' such.
The kind of accidents you prefer to call...accidents.
It doesn't matter how you live and die, it's how the bards wrote it down.
"God does not play games with His loyal servants," said the Metatron, but in a worried tone of voice. "Whooo-eee," said Crowley. "Where have you been?"
My idea of a good novel was one you made enough money out of to buy a greenhouse.
Taxation, gentlemen, is very much like dairy farming. The task is to extract the maximum amount of milk with the minimum amount of moo.