Sharon had read a lot of books on the subject of human society and psychology, and after a great deal about social identity and pack spirit, had taken away this simple conclusion: It is far better to talk bollocks at great length and feel okay about it, than to talk about nothing at all and end up killing people.

I mean, you may not look like much, but on paper you’re really cool until people meet you!

You know how it is – you get older, you get wiser, you start to ask yourself ’is it any use being able to summon creatures of the nether deeps when I could be watching BBC 4?

You are deliberately being cryptic,” she exclaimed. “Why?” “Because I don’t like you.

Even if you’ve no idea where you’re going, you have to look like you do. It’s what keeps the locals different from the strangers.

Never argue with the surreal; there’s no winning against irrationality.

We... find it hard to conceive of... of a consciousness whose power, intellect and capacity can be both infinite and capable of caring,” we replied. “We find it hard to accept that there is an unknown thing set above us, to judge us, that we cannot judge in return. Such a concept is, it would appear to us, injustice incarnate, not redemption at all.

Are you really going to ask such inane questions all the time? Mystic bloody forces; just accept them and cope!

The good must be merciful, even if that mercy to the damned is merely in a quick dispatch.

Sharon exuded the brightness of a firefly, the confidence of a double-decker bus, the optimism of a hedgehog and the tact of a small thermonuclear missile.