"If you compulsively pun you are called a paronomasiac."

-- Tim Vine

“Never let hope elude you. That is life's biggest fumble.”
“But a myth, to speak plainly, to me is like a menu in a fancy French restaurant: glamorous, complicated camouflage for a fact you wouldn't otherwise swallow, like maybe lima beans.”
“Guns, double-crosses, hitmen... I can get used to a lot of things, but I'm never going to get used to sleeping where apocalypse bugs mate,â€ Wednesday said, walking into the room looking around. She dropped her Birkin on the floor and heard something scuttling behind the cheap plastic wood print veneer covered dresser. She turned to face Alvin, her head cocked to the side. â€œSeriously. I'm not saying five-star... I'm saying go on Expedia and find a place that actually has stars... any stars.”
“Paralysis, anxiety stomachs, arthritis and many ills and aberrations have been relieved by auditing them. An E-Meter shows them up and makes them confess their misdeeds. They are probably just compartments of the mind which, cut off, begin to act as though they were persons.”
“To get the respect of people, I think you've got to roll up your sleeves and lead with your people. The absolute key is treating your people well. Looking for the best in your people. Lots and lots of praise, no criticism.”
“The ego needs recognition. The spirit does not need to thank itself.”
“Something about this made Reynie uneasy. Had he done so badly? Was this meant to test his courage? He did as he was told, closing his eyes and bracing himself as best he could. "Why are you flinching?" the pencil woman asked. "I don't know. I thought maybe you were going to slap me." "Don't be ridiculous. I could slap you perfectly well with your eyes open. I'm only going to blindfold you.”
“Mine, said the stone,mine is the hour.I crush the scissors,such is my power.Stronger than wishes,my power, alone.Mine, said the paper,mine are the wordsthat smother the stonewith imagined birds,reams of them, flownfrom the mind of the shaper.Mine, said the scissors,mine all the knivesgashing through paper'sethereal lives;nothing's so properas tattering wishes.As stone crushes scissors,as paper snuffs stoneand scissors cut paper,all end alone.So heap up your paperand scissor your wishesand uproot the stonefrom the top of the hill.They all end aloneas you will, you will.”

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