“Hwæt! Wē Gār-Dena in geār-dagumþēod-cyninga þrym gefrūnon,hū þā æðelingas ellen fremedon.Oft Scyld Scēfing sceaðena þrēatum, monegum mǣgðum meodo-setla oftēah. Egsode eorlas, syððan ǣrest wearð fēasceaft funden: hē þæs frōfre gebād, wēox under wolcnum, weorð-myndum ðāh, oð þæt him ǣghwylc þāra ymb-sittendra ofer hron-rāde hȳran scolde, gomban gyldan. Þæt wæs gōd cyning!”

“Would Grandmother scold him? Would she say, “Frank! Thank the gods, you've come. I'm surrounded by monsters.”More likely she'd scold him, or mistake them for intruders and chase them off with a frying pan.”

“People feel with their hearts, Ellen: and since he has destroyed mine, I have not power to feel for him.”

“I looked up at Ellen and her not-glowing pentagram. "Harm none is the rule, Ellen: bad witch, no cookie.”

“Someday, someday, this crazy world will have to end,And our God will take things back that He to us did lend.And if, on that sad day, you want to scold our God,Why just go ahead and scold Him. He'll just smile and nod.”

“Do you have any idea how late it is? Go to sleep," she scolded as she hurried past him. "I know, I'm going to bed right now ... Hey! YOU go to sleep," Jerry scolded back, belatedly remembering that he was the parent.”