How Was Your... Eh... Trip?"

Too Much Damned Tv. Thinks He's Sherlock Holmes." "that's Professor Moriarty," Corrected Foaly. "holmes, Moriarty, They Both Look The Same With The Flesh Scorched Off Their Skulls.

You Need To Stop Thinking With Your Head, Mud Boy, And Start Thinking With Your Heart.” Artemis Sighed. The Heart Was An Organ For Pumping Oxygen-rich Blood To The Cells. It Could No More Think Than An Apple Could Tap-dance.

I'm Lep. A Captain. No Rent-a-cop Gnome Is Going To Stand In The Way Of My Orders.

Artemis: "right, Brothers. Onward. Imagine Yourself Seated At A Cafe In Montmartre." Myles: "in Paris." Artemis: "yes, Paris. And Try As You Will, You Cannot Attract The Waiter's Attention. What Do You Do?" Beckett: "umm...tell Butler To Jump-jump-jump On His Head?" Myles: "i Agree With Simple-toon." Artemis: "no! You Simply Raise One Finger And Say Clearly 'ici, Garcon.'" Beckett: "itchy What?

Everything Rests On The Poisoned Wine. If It Were Just The Queen, I Could Force It Down Her Gullet, But Declan Broekhart Would Run Me Through With That Damned Ceremonial Sword, And If His Wife's Stares Were Daggers, He'd Be Dead Already.