“I kicked the door open, staff held ready to fight, and shouted, "And I'm all outta bubble gum!”

“I looked from the gadget-readied spear and body armor to my slender staff of plain old wood and leather duster."My dick is better than your dick," I said.”

“It isn't a club," I said calmly. "It's a walking stick.""Six feet long.""It's traditional Ozark folk art.""With dents and nicks all over it."I thought about it for a second. "I'm insecure?""Get a blanket." He held out his hand. I signed and passed my staff over to him. "Do I get a receipt?"He took a notepad from his pocket and wrote on it. Then he passed it over to me. It read: Received, one six foot tall traditional Ozark walking club from Mr. Smart-Ass.”

“The door burst open. Murphy came through it, her eyes living flames of azure blue, her hair a golden coronet around her. She held a blazing sword in her hand and she shone so bright and beautiful and terrifying in her anger that it was hard to see. The Sight, I realized, dimly. I was seeing her for who she was.”

“I slammed the doors open a little harder than I needed to, stalked out to the Blue Beetle, and drove away with all the raging power the ancient four-cylinder engine should muster. Behold the angry wizard puttputt-putting away.”

“...The next time I opened my eyes, I was in the morgue.This, all by itself, is enough to really ruin your day.I was lying on the examining table, and Butters, complete with his surgical gown and his tray of autopsy instruments, stood over me.'I'm not dead!' I sputtered. 'I'm not dead!'- Harry Dresden, Death Masks, Jim Butcher”

“How long have you been a Wiccan?''A what?''A pagan. A witch.''I'm not a witch,' I said, glancing out the door. 'I'm a wizard.'Sanya frowned. 'What is the difference?''Wizard has a Z'He looked at me blankly.'No one appreciates me.' I muttered.”