Carrie Vaughn · 282 pages
Rating: (10.4K votes)
“I grinned at him. 'Jealous?'
He grinned right back. 'That's a trick question. If I say yes you'll accuse me of being paranoid and unreasonable, and if I say no you'll make some defensive crack about how I don't think you're worth getting jealous over.'
This is what I got for hooking up with a lawyer.”
“It doesn’t bother you that your canine brethren are being paraded around show rings like slaves?”
“My canine brethren?” I said. “I don’thave any canine brethren.”
“How can you say that! You’re a werewolf.”
“That’s right. I’m a werewolf, not a poodle. What makes you think I have any kinship with dogs?”
“So I’d been called the Barbara Walters of weird shit.There’s weird shit and then there’s weird shit.”
“So is he cute? Good-looking, I mean? Because I can’t really tell with guys, and it looked like you two might have hit it off.” I grinned at him. “Jealous?” He grinned right back. “That’s a trick question. If I say yes you’ll accuse me of being paranoid and unreasonable, and if I say no you’ll make some defensive crack about how I don’t think you’re worth getting jealous over.” This was what I got for hooking up with a lawyer.”
“You only get married the first time once.” There was the philosophy of a generation wrapped up in a tidy little sentence”
“A werewolf isn't supposed to have parents." Brenda said, grumbling. "They're not supposed to have mothers. How am I supposed to shoot you now, knowing it'll upset that really nice woman?”
“Things change, but they stay the same.”
“Then, as understanding began to trickle through his shock, he felt an escalating sense of horror. It had finally happened; he had finally lost enough of his mind so that other people would be able to *tell*.”
“A man doesn’t choose to be an idiot, but he does choose to be loyal.”
“I would like to take this opportunity to reassure Muggle purchasers that the amusing creatures described hereafter are fictional and cannot hurt you.To wizards, I say merely: Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus.”
“They may be called the Palace Guard, the City Guard, or the Patrol. Whatever the name, their purpose in any work of heroic fantasy is identical: it is, round about Chapter Three (or ten minutes into the film) to rush into the room, attack the hero one at a time, and be slaughtered. No one ever asks them if they want to.
This book is dedicated to those fine men.”
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