“The conversation limped along this line of thought much like a zombie: lifeless and mindless and making a jelly of whatever healthy brains were within its reach.”

“I could not be a zombie. They had no thoughts. Their brains were gruel. They said little beyond "Brrr!" unable, even, to articulate completely what they sought."Brains,"I said distinctly. "And I feel no burning urge to partake of any." Forsooth, the idea sent a wave of nausea through me. Therefore I was not a zombie.”

“Whatever it was, he thought, whatever the strain and the agony, they were worth it, because they had made him reach this day”

“What do zombies chant at a riot?”“Grrarphsnarg?” he asked, in a surprisingly well-done bit of mindless zombie imitating.“No, but that was really good. Disconcertingly good.”“I was deceased for a time.”“True. But anyway, the rioters get all riled up, and they chant: ‘What do we want? Brains! When do we want them? Brains!’” I fell into a wave of appropriately boisterous laughter; Ethan seemed less impressed.“I truly hope the stipend we pay you doesn’t get spent on the development of jokes like that.”

“Noah trailed a line of blazing kisses along the nape of neck, confusing my brain.”

“If zombies eat brains, then they’d love me, because who doesn’t like a buffet?”