She glared at him. 'I'm not weird like that. I'm good weird. I'm cool weird.' 'Yes,' he said doubtfully. 'Yes, you are.

We're not retreating, we're advancing in reverse.' --Skulduggery Pleasant

Doors are for people with no imagination.

I love you all, even those I don’t particularly like. That’s you, Beryl.

I'm sophisticated, charming, suave, and debonair, Professor. But I have never claimed to be civilized.

Kindness suits you." "Really? I think I'm quite allergic to it.

The Baron, unfortunately, turns it all the way up to eleven." "Seriously? Because, you know, that's one more evil

Well, for future reference, this is my serious face.

Plans are invitation to disappointment.

I'm placing you under arrest for murder, conspiracy to commit murder and, I don't know, possibly littering.

Are you sulking?” “Me? No. I don’t sulk.” “You sound like you’re sulking.” “I’m just waiting for the violent urges to subside.

Sarcasm, as it turned out--even when it was instinctive and quick--cut into the time one had to manufacture one's escape.

Neither wit nor beauty nor riches can conquer misery, only kindness can.

A stale article, if you dip it in a good, warm, sunny smile, will go off better than a fresh one that you've scowled upon.

The Jews are the living embodiment of the minority, the constant reminder of what duties societies owe their minorities, whoever they might be.

Who dispenses reputation? Who makes us respect and revere persons, works, laws, the great? Who but this faculty of imagination? All the riches of the earth are inadequate without its approval.

If someone is starving, excessively exercising or using purging behaviors, then we know they are in a high-risk place for turning on the psychiatric illnesses.

I love Nic Cage. He was so much fun to work with.

Finally one arrives at this: the state of sleep has an ambiguous function; in sleep, the lack of contact with the culture brings out the worst and also the best in us.

Take a deep breath, pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again.

Those who speak ill of the spiritual life, although they come and go by day, are like the smith's bellows: they take breath but are not alive.