“Watch your step," said Slash.Jig stopped, fully expecting to be shot, poisoned, crushed, or maybe all three at the same time. "What is it now?" Slash pointed to a pile of brown, slimy goo in the center of the tunnel. "Hairball.”

“That worked great! Thank you so much. What next?""I don't know. I didn't expect you to live through it.""Oh.”

“Given the issues with certain SF/F trophies (like the World Fantasy Award, which is 1) butt-ugly and 2) based on one disgustingly racist dude), all trophies from this point forward should be made out of LEGO. That way if you don't like it, you can just make it into something else.”

“When Theolyn died, the humans had built an enormous pyre and placed his body at the center. How was [Veka] supposed to know humans cremated their dead instead of cooking them? She had figured it out quickly enough, but not before Jimar and his ilk had spotted her standing at the pyre, fork in hand.”

“Torches," Porak ordered."This is dumb," Jig grumbled as one of the others handed out torches. "Why not run ahead and warn any intruders that we're coming? Maybe we should sing, too, in case they're blind.”

“I like big books and I cannot lie.You other readers can’t denyThat when a kid walks in with The Name of the WindLike a hardbound brick of win.Story bling.Wanna swipe that thingCause you see that boy is speedingRight through the book he’s reading.I’m hooked and I can’t stop pleading.Wanna curl up with that for ages,All thousand pages.Reviewers tried to warn me.But with that plot you hookedMe like Bradley.Ooh, crack that fat spine.You know I wanna make you mine.This book is stella ’cause it ain’t some quick novella.”

“That is a trial I must face," Veka said."No, that is a multiheaded snake thing, Jig snapped.”