“Someone killed my Mother and my Father and my Sister?""Yes, someone did.""A Man?""A Man.""Which means," said Bod, "you're asking the wrong question."Silas raised an eyebrow. "How so?""Well," said Bod. "If I go outside in the world, the question isn't who will keep me safe from him?""No?""No. It's who will keep him safe from me?”

“Silas continued, in his voice like velvet, "You had parents. An older sister. They were killed. I believe that you were to have been killed as well, and that you were not was due to chance, and the intervention of the Owenses.""And you," said Bod, who had had that night described to him over the years by many people, some of whom had even been there. It had been a big night in the graveyard.Silas said, "Out there, the man who killed your family is, I believe, still looking for you, still intends to kill you."Bod shrugged. "So?" he said. "It's only death. I mean, all of my best friends are dead.”

“Bod shrugged. "So?" he said. "It's only death. I mean, all of my best friends are dead.”

“I'm a stranger," pointed out Bod."You're not," she said, definitely. "You're a little boy." And then she said, "And you're my friend. So you can't be a stranger.”

“And why does he talk so funny? Doesn't he mean squashed tomatoes?I don't think that they had tomatoes when he comes from, said Bod. And that's just how they talk then.”

“Repeat after me, there are the living and the dead, there are day-folk and night-folk, there are ghouls and mist-walkers, there are high hunters and the Hounds of God. Also, there are solitary types.""What are you?" asked Bod."I," she said sternly, "am Miss Lupescu.""And what is Silas?"She hesitated. Then she said, "He is a solitary type.”

“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.”