“The Hoodmen are far from being the worst of the servants of the Cult of the Unwritten Book, but they are among the most peculiar. You know when you’re trying to remember a word and it’s on the tip of your tongue but you can’t seem to get it out? Well, that’s because the Hoodmen have eaten it. They eat all the words that are on the tips of other people’s tongues. They thrive on misplaced words, savoring all the lost potential of each expression. They’re also able to convert words into electricity. Mr. Steele took an entire phrase.”

“Other people’s words are so important. And then without warning they stop being important, along with all those words of yours that their words prompted you to write. Much of the excitement of a new novel lies in the repudiation of the one written before. Other people’s words are the bridge you use to cross from where you were to wherever you’re going.”

“Unlike written words which can mend those leaving the tip of your tongue never bend.”

“Many times when I read a book, I want to savor each word, each phrase, each page, loving the prose so much, I don’t want it to end. Other times the story pulls me in, and I can hardly read fast enough, the details flying by, some of them lost because all that matters is making sure the character is all right when it’s over.”

“The words in this book are all phooey. When you say them, your lips will make slips and back flips and your tongue may end up in Saint Looey!”

“You seem to be attracted to trouble," he said."Yeah, she's real pretty," I replied."Your tongue is sharper than mine ever was."I stuck out my tongue and tried to look at the tip of it.”