“But you must stop playing among his ghosts -- it's stupid and dangerous and completely pointless. He's trying to lay them to rest here, not stir them up, and you seem eager to drag out all the sad old bones of his history and make them dance again. It's not nice, and it's not fair.”

“You should be out stirring up trouble with your friends, not bothering with all them books you read. You know it's them books what make you talk funny.”

“So you try, and try, to move past it and forget about them, but it's like they're stuck in your head -- you can't just flip a switch and stop loving them! So you hate yourself for it because you know it's no use, but nothing you do seems to ever make a difference.”

“When you're a sportswriter, you learn how to use your imagination and to flex your literary muscle, because it's the same game played over and over again. There's nothing unique or marvelous. It's not an earthquake, or a weird mass murder. It's just the same old game played over and over, and you have to bring out the personalities. You have to drag them kicking and screaming out into the light of day, or you're not a good sportswriter.”

“Well", Fang said, mimicking a thick Southern drawl. "I must say its mighty nice of them Daimons to clean up after themselves when you kill them" He held his hands up to them. "Look Ma, no mess.""Does Fang have an off switch?" Talon asked Vane.”

“The journey had been long and dangerous, and along the way he had met countless travelers, many of whom were so amazing that they must certainly rank among the most original and memorable characters in the history of recorded literature. Which is why it's so sad that there's no time to describe them.”