“Who are you and how did you get in here?" "I'm a locksmith. And, I'm a locksmith.”

“If you really think there's a Santa, why don't you sit on the front steps all night in the freezing cold and see if he climbs down any chimneys tonight. Good luck. And since we're a family that isn't lucky enough to have a chimney, how would Santa get into our house? Does he bring a locksmith with him? And it probably would have to be a Jewish locksmith, because a Christian locksmith is going to want to be home with his family. And how many Jewish locksmiths are there? None.”

“If I had only known, I would have been a locksmith. ”

“Fear of the Locksmiths and Skellow’s thumb-cutting knife flooded Mosca but did not fill her. Somehow there was room in her core for an angry little knot of excitement, tight and fierce as a pike’s grin.”

“Why didn't you call?" Taylor asked."I did. No one answered." Roo bent to refill her handbag.Ah. "So how were going to get in the house?""I thought I'd just wait for you to come back." She started to tap her foot."Why didn't you go home and call a locksmith?" Taylor asked.Roo glared. "What is this? The Spanish Inquisition?" Then she grinned. "Oh, I've waited years to say that."Taylor bit back his laugh.”

“But dreams come through stone walls, light up dark rooms, or darken light ones, and their persons make their exits and their entrances as they please, and laugh at locksmiths.”