“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.”

“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.”

“I've done smarter things in my life. Once, for example, I threw myself out of a moving car in order to take on a truckload of lycanthropes singlehandedly."~Harry Dresden”

“My laboratory,' I said, experimentally, drawing out each syllable. 'Why is it that saying it like that always makes me want to follow it with 'mwoo-hah-hah-hahhhhh'? ''You were overexposed to Hammer Films as a child?' - Harry Dresden & Bob the Skull, Changes, Jim Butcher”

“You're supposed to be a spirit of intellect. I don't understand why you're obsessed with sex."Bob's voice got defensive. "It's an academic interest, Harry.""Oh yeah? Well maybe I don't think it's fair to let your academia go peeping in other people's houses.""Wait a minute. My academia doesn't just peep -"I held up a hand. "Save it. I don't want to hear it."He grunted. "You're trivializing what getting out for a bit means to me, Harry. You're insulting my masculinity.""Bob," I said, "you're a skull . You don't have any masculinity to insult.""Oh yeah?" Bob challenged me. "Pot kettle black, Harry! Have you gotten a date yet? Huh? Most men have something better to do in the middle of the night than play with their chemistry sets.”