“The return of the rain, beating out time on London's rooftops and pavements. Early morning Zombies sheltering beneath copies of the Standard whilst others ran screaming for cover in doorways because water from the heavens is holy and melts the undead.”

“Please stop shaking your rain water in my direction. What next? Are you going to come over here, cock your leg and urinate upon my person?”

“I am not an outsider. I am an insider who discovered that everyone else had gone out.”

“One final glance back at the hotel. Philias Switchmoat the Third, stepping from the curb and in to a puddle. Disappeared.”

“Clearly it is God's will to place me in such a predicament," declared Philias loudly to a procession of stunned passers-by, "So God can jolly well point me towards salvation.”

“I don't need anything else. I get out of bed every morning and face the world because you're in it.”

“Wind does not need translation. It speaks the language of men, of animals and birds, of rocks and trees and earth and sky and water. It does not eat or sleep, or take shelter from the weather. It is the weather. And it lives.”