Sarah felt about great sex the way St. George felt about slaying dragons...

Isn’t it funny that only twenty years ago, they were down there cowering in terror that we trigger-happy, decadent, capitalist Americans would go nuclear on them any minute? Little did they know our secret weapon was Starbucks.

Sometimes it was just better to blow shit up.

Prague. Praha. The name actually meant “threshold”. Pollina had said the city was a portal between the life of the good and … the other. A city of dark magic, Alessandro had called it.

Dig your nails deep enough into the back of a Soviet, and eventually you'll find a Russian.

The cold war was over, but all the little games persisted. It was a good thing those puppets in the Middle East had been too busy grubbing around in their deserts to play any serious role in international espionage ... She took a calming moment to visualize the entire Arab world as a giant parking lot. Lovely.

It wasn't enough to be alive. Everyone needed something to live for.Or die for.

Prague is a threshold.”“A threshold?”“Yes. Between the life of good and … the other.”Sarah thought of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. “I’m not going to have to fight demons, am I?

Rules of science.” Alessandro shrugged his elegant shoulders. “And what are those? We don’t even know how this works.” He pointed to his head.

The city was in a panic, though a panic in Italy means most people still stand around coffee bars drinking espresso and Prosecco.