To the attention of the New Fiddleham Police Department: You've got my middle-C, and I would like it back....Please return Jackaby's tuning fork. He's getting even more obnoxious than usual.

We are not the policy department, except for those of us who are," Jackaby revised.

Monsters are easy, Miss Rook. They're monsters. But a monster in a suit? That's basically just a wicked man, and a wicked man is a more dangerous thing by far.

Names have power... And he kept the one I gave him. My dear, sweet Jackaby. - Eleanor

So often,” Jackaby said, “people think that when we arrive at a crossroads, we can choose only one path, but—as I have often and articulately postulated—people are stupid. We’re not walking the path. We are the path. We are all of the roads and all of the intersections. Of course you can choose both.

I’m beginning to think a dictionary would have been a far more advantageous birthday gift for you.”“More advantageous than being eaten alive by a giant, carnivorous bunny? Yes, most things fall in that category, I think.

Maybe if you would bother reading a book once in a while instead of hurling them about every chance you get, you would have put the pieces together yourself by now

It wasn’t that I did not believe in ghosts; it was that I believed in them in the same noncommittal way that I believed in giant squids or lucky coins or Belgium. They were things that probably existed, but I had never given any occasion to really care one way or another.

Does this smell like paprika or gunpowder to you?