“The dark moppets of dread played their paranoid hopscotch across Moist's inner eyeballs. ”

“The dark organ music filled the Department of Post-Mortem Communications. Moist assumed it was all part of the ambience, although the mood would have been more precisely obtained if the tune it was playing did not appear to be Cantate and Fugue for someone Who Has Trouble with the Pedals.”

“Some people think this is paranoia, but it isn't. Paranoids only think everyone is out to get them. Wizards know it.”

“Hello, inner child, I'm the inner babysitter!”

“Moist was sure doctors keep skeletons around to cow patients. Nyer, nyer, we know what you look underneath ...”

“No!” Moist's fist thumped the table. “Never say that, Tolliver! Never! Run before you walk! Fly before you crawl! Keep moving forward!”

“Welcome to fear, said Moist to himself. It's hope, turned inside out. You know it can't go wrong, you're sure it can't go wrong...But it might.”