She had been a teenager once, and she knew that, despite the apparent contradictions, a person's teenage years lasted well into their fifties.
You're under arrest for multiple counts of murder. You have the right to not much at all, really. Do you have anything to say in your defense?
I mean you ACRES of harm,' Dalrymple growled. 'Untold QUANTITIES of harm. I will visit a whole CONTINENT of harm upon you before we are through.
How have you been? You’re still as beautiful as ever.” “As are you, my dear. I love your shoes.” “Aren’t they delightful? I saw them and just had to have them. Their previous owner wasn’t too keen to let them go, but I can be very persuasive when I want to be.” “Is that her blood on the left one?” “And no amount of scrubbing will get it out, either.
You are a cynical man, Mr. Pleasant." "We live in cynical times, Miss Cain.
The end is now the beginning.
He said a bad word. Do you want to know what it was? It started with F. It's not the one you're thinking of, though. To the other one. The one that ends with P. do you want to know what it was? It was troop." She frowned. "Wait that's not a word.
Even as she'd been writing it, she wondered if she was using too many exclamation marks, but she was glad she left them in. Nothing says "all is good in the world" like exclamation marks, after all.
People!" she screamed. "There are people here! New people!
Personally, I think knees should be kept for the eighth or ninth date, or the wedding day. As a nice surprise you know? 'oh, my darling, you have knees! I never would have thought
He put on his hat and wrapped his scarf around his jaw, but did without the wig and the sunglasses. He clicked his key chain and the car beeped and the doors locked. "That's it?" He looked up. "Sorry?" "Aren't you afraid it might get stolen? We're not exactly in a good part of town." "It's got a car alarm." "Don't you, like, cast a spell or something? To keep it safe?" "No. It's a pretty good car alarm.
You have an amazing ability to depress me sometimes, you know that?" "I try my best.
She's you, without your conscience, or your feelings. She's you without your humanity." "You're saying she's a mood swing?" He shrugged. "Or maybe you're her mood swing." "Don't even joke about that.
I'm sorry? No more smooches is worse than the world ending?
Sanguine chuckled. "I like you, boy. You got optimism in these bones. I like you so much that I ain't gonna tell you what I did to poor old Jethro, the first Jethro, may he rest in peace, may they someday find his head.
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.
Suddenly Saracen Rue looked old and tired, and Skulduggery Pleasant came into focus as what he really was – a genius, a killer, a tortured soul, and the only true dead man among them.
She turned to Skulduggery and held out her arms. “Come here, you.” He tilted his head. “My hugs are for special occasions only.” “Hug me.” “I prefer the old tradition.” “Hug.” “Would a handshake do?” “Hug.” “A pat on the back?” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms round him. “Hug,” she said. He sighed, and his hands settled on her shoulders. The others were warm and their embraces strong – with Skulduggery the hug was cold, and there were areas on his jacket that gave way beneath her fingers, and she could feel the emptiness within. She didn’t mind.
There's a clock on the wall. Press your hand against the face and turn it very slightly to the. Left. There'll be a click to tell you it's done." "Sounds easy enough." "Yes it does," said Sanguine. "Kiss for good luck?" "Maybe later," said Gracious. "How about a handshake?" Asked Donegan.
Valkyrie: “You are such a moron.” Skulduggery: “Don't be jealous of my genius.
Stephanie had no problem doing what she was told, just so long as she was given a good reason why she should.
I love you all, even those I don’t particularly like. That’s you, Beryl.
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