“Webster said, ''Time them skeeters get done with that old man, his French blood will be all gone and he will speak American as good as we do.”

“The French just said he was a damned nuisance. Or they would have had they the good fortune to speak English. Instead being French they were forced to say it in their own language.”

“But how could he explain anything to them, when they understood good but not goodness, strong but not strength, black but not blackness? Give us bread! the Savages cried. Heal us!They were frightened by the consecrated wine, believing that the Black-Gowns drank human blood. This is the blood of JESUS, said Pere Masse. Was that a man? they asked.He was the SON OF GOD, but He became a man to die for us. In memory of his sacrifice, we drink His blood. At this they drew back and whispered in their language, with many terrified glances. ”

“Of course we still want to know you!" Harry said, staring at Hagrid."You don't think anything that Skeeter cow - sorry, Professor," he added quickly, looking at Dumbledore."I have gone temporarily deaf and haven't any idea what you said, Harry," said Dumbledore, twiddling his thumbs and staring at the ceiling.”

“A man must follow through on something once he decides it. I said that, right? But watching your friends get done in without doing something? That’s not being a man at all!”

“The head of the sledgehammer was cold, icy cold, and it touched his forehead as gently as a kiss. 'Pock! There,' said Czernobog. 'Is done.' There was a smile on his face that Shadow had never seen before, an easy, comfortable smile, like sunshine on a summer's day. The old man walked over to the case, and he put the hammer away, and closed the bag, and pushed it back under the sideboard. 'Czernobog?' asked Shadow. Then, 'Are you Czernobog?''Yes. For today,' said the old man. 'By tomorrow, it will all be Bielebog. But today, is still Czernobog.' 'Then why? Why didn't you kill me when you could?'The old man took out an unfiltered cigarette from a pack in his pocket. He took a large box of matches from the mantelpiece and lit the cigarette with a match. He seemed deep in thought. 'Because,' said the old man, after some time, 'there is blood. But there is also gratitude. And it has been a long, long winter.”