Do be careful. I can't replace you as easily as all that.

You are so lucky I'm too tired to murder you right now.

There are always a few, Claire, who like being told what to do instead of being required to think. And those are the ones you should fear. That goes equally for humans, I'm afraid. Critical thinking has become a sadly rare skill these days.

You've turned into quite a bossy little thing," Myrnin said. "I think I might like it.

He hung up on her. She'd just been hung up on by a disembodied brain in a jar. Fantastic.

Afternoons are hard. Mornings are pure evil from the pits of hell, which is why I don't do them anymore.

It's been happening since I was in kindergarten. Not them all the time, but other kids, you know. Every day. It never stops, and it never goes away, thanks to the Internet--it just keeps happening every minute, every day. And I just want it to stop. I think about how to do it, you know. How to kill them. All kinds of elaborate things, like trapping them in pits and burying them alive, or covering them with concrete.

I can handle Glory." "Can you?" Eve asked. "Because I notice you never call her Gloriana. Just Glory." He shut up. Which is probably about the only smart thing he can do, Claire thought.

Amelie seemed to focus on her again. For a few seconds she regarded her, frowning, and then smiled just a little. "So I recall," she said. "Not all wars are waged with bullets and swords, indeed. Some are wars of wills and ideas. It's good we both remember that." The smile faded. "But not all ideas win the war, and not all wills are strong enough. Darkness can descend so easily.