Orion brightened. "I have an idea.""Yes?" said Foaly, daring to hope that a spark of Artemis remained."Why don't we look for some magic stones that can grant wishes? Or, if that doesn't work, you could search my naked body for some mysterious birthmark that means I am actually the prince of somewhere or other.

Me," Artemis blurted. "I'm the nut."Artemis could have sworn the squid winked at him before bringing the five-ton chunk of spacecraft swinging down toward the morsel of meat in its blue shell."I'm the nut!" Artemis shouted again, a little hysterically, it must be said.

Excuse me, Captain. Are you two going to weep salty tears of admiration over a helmet all night, or do we have matters to discuss?

What's that supposed to mean? A wolf's head on a stick. Big wolf barbecue tonight? Bring your own wolf?

Really, I'm trying to care, Artemis, really. But I thought it was all supposed to be over when the fat lady sings. Well, she's singing, but it doesn't appear to be over

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?

I'm the crazy girly captain, Remember?

All we can hope for is that he will fall into the ocean with a bar of soap in his pocket.

I don't know why it is, Captain Short, but whenever you start agreeing with me, I get decidedly nervous.