“It was no use getting angry with Wullie; he lived in a Wullie-shaped world of his own. You had to think diagonally.”

“Whut's the plan, Rob?" said one of them. "Okay, lads, this is what we'll do. As soon as we see somethin', we'll attack it. Right?"This caused a cheer."Ach, 'tis a good plan," said Daft Wullie.”

“They were satisfied with their lives which had none of the vibrance his own was taking on. And he was angry at himself, that he could not change that for them.”

“She folded her arms and then shouted, "Right you thieving scunners! How dare you steal Miss Treason's funeral meats!""Oh, waily, waily, it's the foldin' o' the arms, the foooldin' o' the aaaarmss!" cried Daft Wullie, dropping to the ground and trying to cover himself with leaves. Around him Feegles started to wail and cower and Big Yan began to bang his head on the rear wall of the dairy.”

“He hadn't meant to get so angry at Morgan. He didn't often get angry at other people. There was no sense in it. The person you were angry at was rarely ever repentant. Now, getting angry with yourself had some merit. It showed you had sense enough to chastise the one person who had any hope of benefiting from it. And he was plenty angry with himself. For many things.”

“A few minutes later, she was once again riding her own horse. Deciding to take the lead, she nudged the mare into a trot, and as she passed Brodick and Ramsey, she called out, "You used trickery.""Yes, I did," he admitted. "Are you angry with me?"She laughed again. "I don't get angry. I get even."Unbeknownst to her, she had just recited the Buchanan creed.”