He moved on, in the centre of a widening circle. He wasn't an enemy, he was a nemesis.

And then there were cats, thought Dog. He'd surprised the huge ginger cat from next door and had attempted to reduce it to cowering jelly by means of the usual glowing stare and deep-throated growl, which had always worked on the damned in the past. This time they had earned him a whack on the nose that had made his eyes water. Cats, Dog considered, were clearly a lot tougher than lost souls. He was looking forward to a further cat experiment, which he planned would consist of jumping around and yapping excitedly at it. It was a long shot, but it just might work.

Child. That was a terrible thing to say to anyone who was almost thirteen.

Tragic heroes always moan when the gods take an interest in them, but it's the people the gods ignore who get the really tough deals

I thought jet planes were just trucks with more wings and less wheels.

A true beanie should have a propellor on the top.

Christ managed to boil down an awful lot of commandments to a few very simple rules for living. It's when you go backwards through the 'begats' and the Garden of Eden, and you start thinking, 'Hang on, that's a big punishment for eating one lousy apple... There's a human-rights issue.'