“A sharp bolt of hunger hit Luther hard. His knees almost buckled, his poker face almost grimaced. For two weeks now his sense of smell had been much keener, no doubt a side effect of a strict diet. Maybe he got a whiff of Mabel's finest, he wasn't sure, but a craving came over him. Suddenly, he had to have something to eat. Suddenly, he wanted to snatch the bag from Kendall, rip open a package, and start gnawing on a fruitcake.”

“It suddenly made sense. Only twice in his life had he felt this inexplicable, almost mystical attraction to a woman. He’d thought it remarkable, to have found two, when in his heart he’d always believed there was only one perfect woman out there for him. His heart had been right. There was only one.”

“Then shouts from the direction of the doorway. I started to black out, kneeing him in the crotch to no effect and clawing in panic at his hands, the flesh sloughing off under my nails. Then suddenly he straightened, and looked toward the door. Schubert came charging through, his service revolver raised. Two more officers came right behind. He whirled away from them as if to hide his ruined face. But he didn't hide it from me! He looked at me with what passed for a fixed and hideous grin, although it might have been the death rictus of his facial muscles. His voice was like a tinny rasp, hollow and unreal. "When the world starts to chew itself up alive, and spits out its own guts... be it on your conscience, Mr. Kolchak!" He staggered away. Schubert was yelling for me to stop him. I made a grab for his coat but it came off in my hand. The acid. He bolted for what had been an outside window, now boarded up, and smashed through it. We could hear his wail all the way down. And a distant, echoing clatter of falling wood... and glass... and bones.”

“Caspian felt sure that he would hate the new Tutor, but when the new Tutor arrived about a week later he turned out to be the sort of person it is almost impossible not to like. He was the smallest, and also the fattest, man Caspian had ever seen. He had a long, silvery, pointed beard which came down to his waist, and his face, which was brown and covered with wrinkles, looked very wise, very ugly, and very kind. His voice was grave and his eyes were merry so that, until you got to now him really well, it was hard to know when he was joking and when he was serious. His name was Doctor Cornelius.”

“Adjusting to Beau being a caveman over a girl had been almost as hard as seeing him with Ash. Beau didn't do jealous, not until Ashton had become his. Now he was a freaking lunatic.”

“Then it had not been merely the stars to which he had aspired on that June night. He came alive to me, delivered suddenly from the womb of his purposeless splendour.”