“How much blood will it take to make them stop? How many more children must die?”

“Peter didn't answer. He pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and put his chin on his knees. Ever the contradiction, Tanngnost thought. One moment a cold-hearted killer, the next a sentimental boy, always the eternal optimist despite a lifetime of tragedy. Of course, that's his glamour. The very thing that draws the children to him, makes them love him despite so many contradictions. (The Child Thief)”

“How will I make a people who do not understand the power of belief believe? And without their belief Mother Earth will wither and Yuletide will fade...and so, too will I...like all the spirits and gods before me.”

“Burn? Smite? Punish? Why is your god so intolerant? So jealous? Why must there be only one god? Why is there not room for many?”

“You can never be done with music. No more than you can be done with breathing. The day you quit is the day you die.”

“Jesse couldn't picture a more desolate setting to meet his end. He watched the water drops gather and slide down the windshield, remembered how as a child he'd pretend they were eating each other, tried to pretend he was sitting in the back of his daddy's car now heading over to Grandma's for dinner.”

“I bring fresh blood," Peter said and grinned.”