“I never fell. I don't care what they say. I'm still doing my job, as I see it.”

“How old are you?" said the girl. "What are you doing here? Do you live here? What's your name?" "I don't know," said Bod. "You don't know your name?" said the girl. "Course you do. Everybody knows their own name. Fibber." "I know my name," said Bod. "And I know what I'm doing here. But I don't know the other things you said.”

“Do you think they're still there?''Where?''Greece. Egypt. The islands. Those places. Do you think if you walked where those people walked you'd see the gods?''Maybe. But I don't think people'd know that was what they'd seen.”

“You're brave. You are the bravest person I know, and you are my friend. I don't care if you are imaginary.”

“For me, I would rather read a good book, from a contented author. I don't really care what it takes to produce that.”

“Librarians are the coolest people out there doing the hardest job out there on the frontlines. And every time I get to encounter or work with librarians, I'm always impressed by their sheer awesomeness.”

“I only have two kinds of dreams: the bad and the terrible. Bad dreams I can cope with. They're just nightmares, and they end eventually. I wake up. The terrible dreams are the good dreams. In my terrible dreams, everything is fine. I am still with the company. I still look like me. None of the last five years ever happened. Sometimes I'm married. Once I even had kids. I even knew their names. Everything's wonderful and normal and fine. And then I wake up, and I'm still me. And I'm still here. And that is truly terrible.”