“Never let it be said that Harry Dresden is afraid of a dried, dead bug. Creepy or not, I wasn't going to let it ruin my concentration.So I scooped it up with the corner of the phone book and popped it into the middle drawer of my desk. Out of sight, out of mind.So I have a problem with creepy, dead, poisonous things. So sue me.”

“Would that be okay? It's just a day trip. I mean I know we just met yesterday, so, it's not like creepy or anything?" His confident grin falters for a quick second, long enough for me to snap out of my idiotic stupor.That sounds awesome. I nod. Let me just grab my bag.He lets out a relieved sigh and smiles. I fight the urge to stand on my tip toes and reach his lips. Because my guess is that cramming my tongue down his throat right now, would be creepy.”

“My name is Harry Dresden," I said.Fitz stumbled. "Holy shit," he said. "Like...that Harry Dresden? The professional wizard?""The one and only."He recovered his pace and shook his head. "I heard you were dead.""Well, yeah," I said, "but I'm taking it in stride.”

“...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”

“I choose my battles, Dresden. Not you." She looked up at me calmly. "Let me put this in terms that will get through your skull: My friend is going to save a child from monsters. I'm going with him. That's what friends do, Harry.”

“Let me out," Harry said again."No," Dumbledore repeated."If you don't - if you keep me in here - if you don't let me-""By all means continue destroying my possessions," said Dumbledore. "I daresay I have too many.”