“He counted his steps. That was how you got through tough things. You counted. Once you said, "one," then you knew "two" was coming, and "three" right after that.”

“Right!""Right!""You can get there!""I can get there!""You're a natural at counting to two!""I'm a nat'ral at counting to two!""If you can count to two, you can count to anything!""If I can count to two, I can count to anything!""And then the world is your mollusc!""My mollusc! What's a mollusc?”

“Thank you,” Simon said. “It’s a joke, Isabelle. He’s the Count. He likes counting. You know. ‘What did the Count eat today, children? One chocolate chip cookie, two chocolate chip cookies, three chocolate chip cookies . . .’”There was a rush of cold air as the door of the restaurant opened, letting in another customer. Isabelle shivered and reached for her black silk scarf. “It’s not realistic.”“What would you prefer? ‘What did the Count eat today, children? One helpless villager, two helpless villagers, three helpless villagers . . .”

“Did you see me disarm Hermione, Harry?""Only once" said Hermione stung. "I got you loads more then you got me—""I did not only get you once, I got you at least three times—""Well if you're counting the one where you tripped over your own feet and knocked the wand out of my hand—”

“You got three seconds, he says, then they're comin down. He starts to count. One... two...I turn and run.I can still hear him laughin when I'm halfways back to camp.”

“You're dying right now. Right this minute.' He looked at his watch, said, 'Right this second,' then tapped it with his finger. 'See there? That second passed. It's gone. Not gonna come again. And while I'm talking to you, every second I'm talking, a second is passing. Gone. Count them up. Count them down. They're gone. Each one bringing you closer to your dying time.”