Can You Trust Me, He Said. Not

The Bus Timetable Sites Are All Run By An Inbred Cabal Of Malicious Gnomes. Who Don’t Speak English. And Who Don’t Count Very Well Either. Or Tell Time. And They Certainly Can’t Read Maps.

[harry] Had Always Suffered From A Vague Restlessness, A Longing For Adventure That She Told Herself Severely Was The Result Of Reading Too Many Novels When She Was A Small Child.

Tiny Fists Can Hurt Quite A Lot When They Hit You In The Face.

What You Describe Is How It Happens To Everyone: Magic Does Slide Through You, And Disappear, And Come Back Later Looking Like Something Else. And I'm Sorry To Tell You This, But Where Your Magic Lives Will Always Be A Great Dark Space With Scraps You Fumble For. You Must Learn To Sniff Them Out In The Dark.

...but With The Hours I Sometimes Kept At The Coffeehouse I Had To Have Learned To Take Naps During The Day Or Die, And I Had Learned To Take Naps. Up Until Five Months Ago "something Or Other Or Die" Had Always Seemed Like A Plain Choice In Favor Of The Something Or Other.