“So how big is this thing anyway?” Desideria askedChayden made a sound of irritation. “You know, that’s not really a question I want to hear my younger sister ask a man, especially not one I consider a friend, while he’s lying bare-assed on my floor.”Hauk and Fain laughed.Desideria was less than amused. “Remember, brother, I’m currently the only one holding a weapon.”Caillen glared at him. “Really, Chay, why don’t you concentrate on the people trying to kill us right now? ’Preciate it, pun’kin.” He turned his attention to her. “About the size of your smallest fingernail.”Fain laughed again. “Damn, I should have been taping that response and using it for playback at every party from here until I die.”

“Point taken there. Now, the important question, so pay attention, ye ADD degenerates. How the F do I kill them? ’Cause no offense, I was trying and they were kicking my ass all over the place. It really wasn’t pretty and didn’t do much for my ego either. My only reprieve is that no one I have to face on a regular basis witnessed my beating. Don’t know why you wanted me here when I’m about as useful as a wart on Aremis’s bum.” – Sasha”

“George is a goblin who looks like a young boy. He is explaining to his friend Lout, an ogre, that he’s really older than he seems - - -“My people grow slowly and I’ve been around longer than you think. I’m very mature for my age. I have a doctorate degree from Oxford in Medieval Literature,” said George.“Is Oxford really in this story?” asked Lout.“I should have said Oxxphord.”“That sounds better. I’m really impressed, George. With an education like that, you could get a great job.”“Yeah, that’s how I ended up as a stable boy.”

“I defy you to try it, Princess. Go ahead. I don’t even know how to sweep a floor. All I know how to do is use my body to please others. I was sick and alone with no references, friends, family, or money. I was so weak from hunger that even a beggar stole your himation from me while I lay on the ground, wanting to die and unable to stop him from taking it. So don’t come here now with your disdainful eyes and look at me like I’m beneath you. I don’t need your charity and I don’t need your pity. I know exactly what you see when you look at me. (Acheron)”

“If you’ve got a bag in that SUV, you might as well get it out.”“He’s not staying here,” Lisa countered.“I say he is.”Lisa yanked at the coat from within. “You’re not the only person who lives here, Robin.”“No, but I’m one-third owner of the house.” She motioned Donovan toward his truck. “Consider whatever part of the house he’s in as my third.”“Damn it, Robin! I don’t want him here.”“I do.”“Why?”Robin cocked her head to the side as if considering the question. “Because he’s got that big, mean, don’t-mess-with-me look of a rottweiler on steroids that could be a deterrent to any repercussions from your trip into town today, and because”—she shrugged and a smile touched her lips—“he bothers you in a way I’ve never seen you bothered. It’s interesting.”

“I was reading a poem by my idol, Wallace Stevens, in which he said, ‘The self is a cloister of remembered sounds.’ My first response was, Yesss! How did he know that? It’s like he’s reading my mind. But my second response was, I need some new sounds to remember. I’ve been stuck in my little isolation chamber for so long I’m spinning through the same sounds I’ve been hearing in my head all my life. If I go on this way, I’ll get old too fast, without remembering any more sounds than I already know now. The only one who remembers any of my sounds is me. How do you turn down the volume on your personal-drama earphones and learn how to listen to other people? How do you jump off one moving train, marked Yourself, and jump onto a train moving in the opposite direction, marked Everybody Else? I loved a Modern Lovers song called, ‘Don’t Let Our Youth Go to Waste,’ and I didn’t want to waste mine.”