“Excuse me, Abigail, but whose shift did she get away during?' Townsend asked with a glare.'Excuse me, Townsend, but who was supposed to booby-trap the doors?''I'm an agent of Her Majesty's Secret Service,' Townsend said, indignant. 'I do not do booby traps.”

“I'm an agent of Her Majesty's Secret Service. I do not do booby traps.”

“Watch out. Bras are often booby-trapped.”

“Charlie Black: Fourierism was tried in the late nineteenth century… and it failed. Wasn’t Brook Farm Fourierist? It failed. Tom Townsend: That’s debatable. Charlie Black: Whether Brook Farm failed? Tom Townsend: That it ceased to exist, I’ll grant you, but whether or not it failed cannot be definitively said. Charlie Black: Well, for me, ceasing to exist is — is failure. I mean, that’s pretty definitive. Tom Townsend: Well, everyone ceases to exist. Doesn’t mean everyone’s a failure.”

“We got boobies!" the kid me said, gawking at my chest. "I'm really glad we got boobies. Finally.”

“I still didn’t know quite what the witches were capable of. The threshold could be booby-trapped or enchanted. I could be walking into a cage fight with a demon. Hell, she could open the door with a Glock 9 in her hand and put a bullet in my ear, or throw a cat at me, or call me a damn hippie.”