“I’m a maker of ballads right prettyI write them right here in the streetYou can buy them all over the cityyours for a penny a sheetI’m a word pecker out of the printersout of the dens of Gin LaneI’ll write up a scene on a counter- confessions and sins in the main, boysconfessions and sins in the mainThen you’ll find me in Madame Geneva’skeeping the demons at bayThere’s nothing like gin for drowning them inbut they’ll always be back on a hanging day, on a hanging dayThey come rattling over the cobblesthey sit on their coffins of blackSome are struck dumb, some gabbletop-heavy on brandy or sackThe pews are all full of fine fellowsand the hawker has set up her shopAs they’re turning them off at the gallowsshe’ll be selling right under the drop, boysselling right under the dropThen you’ll find me in Madame Geneva’skeeping the demons at bayThere’s nothing like gin for drowning them inbut they’ll always be back on a hanging day, on a hanging day”

“Never talk to them when they’re human, or they’ll trick you. You’ll get confused and sympathetic. That was what his mom always said. She was probably right. Last time he talked to a werewolf, he ended up dating her.”

“All the reasons you fell in love are still there, but perhaps buried under worries and responsibility. Find them again, then hang in there. Truly, the best is yet to come.”

“Once Kimmy and Bobby walked in Taco Bell they saw their two friends already sitting at the table, and Kimmy and Bobby ordered their food before they joined them. “What’s up?” Manning asked.“Not much, just hanging out,” Bobby answered. “And of course the two of you are always hanging out,” Dave said, nodding toward Kimmy.Kimmy smiled. “Of course we are always hanging out. That’s what you do when you’ve got a best friend, Dave. You’ll learn that maybe one day when you have a best friend.”

“Don’t you ever just have those days where even if you don’t really like someone, you might as well hang out with them because right then, it’s better than being alone?”

“Men! She could not understand why so many women feared them. Hadn't the gods made them with the most vulnerable part of their guts hanging right out of their bodies, like a misplaced bit of bowel? Kick them there and they curled up like snails. Caress them there and their brains melted.”