“An inferior sense of smell," Marcus said, as if absolutely nothing of significance had happened, "is distinct from being told that one smells unpleasant.”

“Whatever happened to "Ia, Ia, Cthulu fthtagn"? ... No one has a sense of style anymore -Harry Dresden”

“Good Lord, I'm regretting this now," I muttered. "I have never - ever - smelled BO this bad in my life. And I once had s'mores wit a Sasquatch.""Hang out with him for awhile," Mort gasped. "Eventually it's not so bad.""Wow. Really?""No. Not really.”

“Thomas hooked a thumb at Butters. "Check out Dr. Marcus Welby, MD, here.""I'd have gone with Doogie Howser, maybe," I said."Split the difference at McCoy?" Thomas asked?"Perfect.”

“Butters blinked at looked at Thomas. "My God," he said. "You've been shot."Thomas hooked a thumb at Butters. "Check out Dr. Marcus Welby, MD, here.""I'd have gone with Doogie Howser, maybe," I said."Split the difference at McCoy?" Thomas asked."Perfect.”

“About thirty feet from the door, Molly abruptly stopped in her tracks and said, "Harry."I paused and looked back at her.Her eyes were wide. She said, "I sense..."I narrowed my eyes. "Say it. You know you want to say it.""It is not a disturbance in the Force, she said, her voice half-exasperated.”

“Chili dogs, funnel cakes, fried bread, majorly greasy pizza, candy apples, ye gods. Evil food smells amazing -- which is either proof that there is a Satan or some equivalent out there, or that the Almighty doesn't actually want everyone to eat organic tofu all the time. I can't decide.”