There were a lot of things he could say. 'Son of a bitch!' would have been a good one. Or he could say, 'Welcome to civilization!' He could have said, 'Laugh this one off!' He might have said, 'Fetch!' But he didn’t, because if he had said any of those things then he’d have known that what he had just done was murder.

It was the kind of storm that suggests the whole sky has swallowed a diuretic.

I don't want unnecessary violence, sergeant,' said Blouse.'Right you are, sir!' said the sergeant. 'Carborundum! First man comes through that door runnin', I want him nailed to the wall!' He caught the lieutenant's eye, and added: 'But not too hard!

It’s still magic even if you know how it’s done.

He wanted one drink, and understood precisely why he wasn't going to have one. One drink ended up arriving in a dozen glasses.

God does not play games with His loyal servants', said the Metatron, but in a worried tone of voice.'Whoopee', said Crowley.