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"Oh hell no. Guys don't talk about that crap."You're serious."Really."What do you talk about?Shane looked at her as if she were insane. "You know. Stuff. We're not girls. We don't talk about our feelings. I mean, not to other guys.Claire rolled her eyes and said, "Fine, be emotionally stunted losers; I don't care."
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"The main difference between a cat and a lie is that a cat only has nine lives."
"The Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat:If you offer him pheasant he would rather have grouse.If you put him in a house he would much prefer a flat,If you put him in a flat then he'd rather have a house.If you set him on a mouse then he only wants a rat,If you set him on a rat then he'd rather chase a mouse.Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat -And there isn't any call for me to shout it:For he will doAs he do doAnd there's no doing anything about it!"
"If you have to explain your sense of humor, then you are performing for the wrong crowd."
"You won't enjoy it," sighed Crowley. "It's been in the car for more than a fortnight." A heavy bass beat began to thump through the Bentley as they sped past Heathrow. Aziraphale's brow furrowed. "I don't recognize this," he said. "What is it?" "It's Tchaikovsky's 'Another One Bites the Dust'," said Crowley, closing his eyes as they went through Slough. To while away the time as they crossed the sleeping Chilterns, they also listened to William Byrd's "We Are the Champions" and Beethoven's "I Want To Break Free." Neither were as good as Vaughan Williams's "Fat-Bottomed Girls."
"Igor?' said Moist. 'You have an Igor?'Oh, yes,' said Hubert. 'That's how I get this wonderful light. They know the secret of storing lightning in jars! But don't let that worry you, Mr Lipspick. Just because I'm employing an Igor and working in a cellar doesn't mean I'm some sort of madman, ha ha ha!'Ha ha,' agreed Moist.Ha hah hah!,' said Hubert. 'Hahahahahaha!! Ahahahahahahhhhh!!!!!-'Bent slapped him on the back. Hubert coughed.Sorry about that, it's the air down here,' he mumbled."
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"I'm all right, Nic," Wolfe said, and finally looked at him. "We walked through the dungeons under Rome, survived Philadelphia, and this perfumed cage won't bring us to our knees. We're all stronger than that.""All right," Santi said. "But don't ask me to stop standing next to you. Because you know I will, however much you shout about it."
"A rap at the back door made her jump, and she peered through the window for a long time before she eased open the door a crack. She left the security chain on. 'What do you want, Richard?'Richard Morrell's police cruiser was parked in the drive. He hadn't flashed any lights or howled any sirens, so she supposed it wasn't an emergency, exactly. But she knew him well enough to know he didn't pay social visits, at least not to the Glass House.'Good question,' Richard said. 'I guess I want a nice girl who can cook, likes action movies, and looks good in short skirts. But I'll settle for you taking the chain off the door and letting me in."
"I know you want me to feel some sympathy for them, but that's not who I am. I care only about those I know, and even then, not all that deeply. Strangers get nothing from me."
"You okay?""Fine.""Your heart's beating really fast.""Gee, thanks. That's very comforting that you can hear it."He smiled, and it was the old Michael, the one she'd first met before all the vamp stuff."Yeah, I know it is. Sorry. Just stay behind me if there's trouble.""You sound like Shane.""Well, he did say he'd kill me if I got you hurt. I'm just looking after my own neck.""Liar."
"I had no name for that particular hue of orange, other than unfortunate."
"What's your name?' she asked, and surprised herself. But for some reason, she wanted to know.Dean's brother-he hadn't been just some nameless Bad Guy Number Four. This vampire wasn't, either. He had a name, a history, maybe even people who cared what happened to him.'My name is none of your business,' he said, and continued to stare out the window, even though there was nothing but blurry brick out there.'Can I call you None for short?"
"God is forgiving or we would not still be walking this world. But to be moral is not to need his divine forgiveness, I think."
"How'd you get to be so good at this?""I had a good teacher.""Better not have been Myrnin or I'll have to kick his predatory ass.""I mean you, dummy.""Oh."
"As he was bringing his hands up her sides, his fingers just barely brushed the outer curve of her breasts, and she gasped into his mouth.Shane immediately sat her upright, and moved to the other end of the couch. His face was flushed; his eyes were bright and no longer looked even a little bit tired. "No,' he said, and held out his hand like a traffic cop when she tried to scoot closer. "Red flag. If you make that sound again, we are in trouble. Or I am, anyway."
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