“Jamie: Maybe you could stop being a neat freak and ease off with barking orders at me.Dante: I resent the neat-freak statement. And I do not bark.Jamie: Sure you don't, Popeye.Dante: And it wouldn't kill you to use the shoe rack. I mean, it's right by the door.Jamie: Stop putting my CD's in chronological order, and I'll work on the shoe rock thing.Dante: How about alphabetical order?Jamie: How about you go to therapy?”

“If somebody steps on your shoes and ruins them, don't freak out.. get a new pair of shoes. If you miss something, don't freak out.. there's nothing you can do to change it.. just move on”

“Maybe if I could slip into Sylvia's mind, sort out the spices in her rack, alphabetize them and dust them off. Maybe then I'd understand how it's the little things that pull you under.”

“Hi, mom,” he said. “I’m fine.”“How are you? Are you still seeing . . .?”“Yep,” A.J. said. “Jamie’s sitting right here, next to me.”“Let’s freak her out, okay?” Jamie said, mischief glinting in his eyes as he popped away—which worked more to freak A.J. out.”

“I don't want to seem ungrateful when you have given me this thoughtful, homemade and totally terrifying gift," Jamie told him. "But you can't imagine I'm going to use it.""Just to hold someone off. Just remember what I taught you," said Nick. "Just buy a little time so I can come get you. Jamie. I'll come get you.”

“Brighid’s eyes flashed with a blue flame, and I wondered if she had learned to do that just so she could compete with the Morrigan’s red flashes. Maybe I should try to figure out how to make my eyes flash green so I could freak out the baristas at Starbucks. “No, you foolish mortal,” I’d say as my eyes glowed, “I ordered a nonfat latte.”