“Hamlet promised himself he’d throw down afterward, but I think perhaps when he said, “From this time forth, my thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!” the limits of blank verse weakened his resolve somehow. If he’d been free to follow the dictates of his conscience rather than the pen of Shakespeare, perhaps he would have abandoned verse altogether, like me, and contented himself with this instead: “Bring it, muthafuckas. Bring it.”

“You're trying to be cool now, Leif? Seriously?""I am the shit, home slice, straight up," he replied."No. I mean, don't get me wrong, this is a great effort, but you still need to use more contractions. And your tone is so formal, it's like you're complimenting the pudding at a duke's dinner party.""Fucking H!" the vampire shouted, shaking his free left fist. He enunciated the g very clearly and projected his voice from his diaphragm, like a trained opera singer."It's fuckin' A, not H, but yeah Leif, go ahead, let's throw down.”

“...Having no recourse, I feel back on Shakespeare. Leif would recognize it and understand the context properly. With my remaining few seconds of consciousness, I quoted Benedick from Much Ado About Nothing, who spoke these words to his former friend:"you are a Villain: I jest not." and then I collapsed into a pool of my own blood.”

“When he said to give him the sword, I don’t think he meant for you to stick it in his guts.”

“It's all Irish politics."Hal looked at me sharply and shook a finger in my face. "That's bloody dangerous, getting involved in that. You be careful."I gaped at Hal. "I can't believe you just said that to me.""What?" Hal protested, shrugging his shoulders and looking aggrieved."I called to ask Gunnar for help with the Bacchants yesterday and he shut me down. No well-wishing, no pleas to be careful, nothing. So now we're dealing with the aftermath of what happens when I try to go it alone, , and you tell me to be careful about Irish politics?""Well, I know precisely where Gunnar's coming from. It's not our job to keep the magical peace.""Neither is it mine."”

“I had an ASU student looking for it in my shop last week, and he defined the Bacchants for me as 'those drunk chicks who killed that one dude because he wouldn't have sex with them.' His professors must be so proud. I asked him if he knew what maenads were, and instead of correctly answering that it was just another name for Bacchants, he bizarrely thought I was referring to my own testicles - as in, "'Ere now, mate, don't swing that bat around me nads.'" The conversation deteriorated quickly after that.”

“Wooo!’ he said, slamming his shot glass down and coughing a bit. ‘That’s good stuff.’I agreed heartily. ‘Shall we do another one?’ I asked.‘Oh no,’ Jesus said quietly, his eyes growing round. ‘This is one of those situations where I have to stop and ask myself, what would I do?”