“The Desert of Lost Things," Puck said dramatically. "Well, that's appropriate. We're here, aren't we?”

“Writers are not here to conform. We are here to challenge. We're not here to be comfortable—we're here, really, to shake things up. That's our job.”

“Well, that's convenient," Puck mused. "I really need to get a few of those things.”

“Besides,” Puck said, grinning his evil grin, “who says I came alone?”“You did,” called another Puck from the rooftop he just left. Glitch’s eyes bugged as the second Puck grinned down at him.“No, he didn’t,” said a third Puck from the opposite roof.“Well, I’m sure they know what he meant,” said yet another Puck, sitting atop a street lamp. “In any case, here we are.”

“You jackass. We're all going to die here. You know that, right?' Harrier said.Yeah," Eugens said shakily. '...Guess I might as well die here with you as out on the desert with a bunch of other jackasses.”

“We aren't in high school. We aren't really in our families and we aren't in our houses. Those are the places we grew up and the times we spent together, but they aren't us. If we think they are, then we're lost, because times end and places are lost. We aren't any place or any time . . . We are everywhere.”