Too much hate is bad for you," I ventured. — Jonathan Stroud

"[T]he magician emerges from bed and we recount our tale. Her response lacks gratitude: stammering furiously, she chides us for the damage to her lawns and flowerbed. The boy is smacked; I am Spasmed; we both spend the day with nail-clippers attending to the damage to the garden."

"I order you, Bartimaeus, to reveal whether you have diligently and wholly carried out your charge-" "Of course I have - what do you think this is, costume jewelry?"

"I know you," he said. "I know your scent. Long ago, yes, but I never forget. I know your name." "A friend of a friend, perhaps?" I eyed his spear-tip nervously. Unlike Eagle-beak, he didnt wave it about at all. "No... an enemy..." "Terrible when you cant remember something thats right on the tip of your tongue," I observed. "Isnt it, though? And you try so hard to recall it, but often as not you cant because some fools interrupting you, prattling away so you cant concentrate, and-" Bull-head gave a bellow of rage. "Shut up! I almost had it then!"

"Spy three suspicious butterflies flitting over hedge. Check the planes. Yep, small foliots, arms flapping wildly. Wasp rises up behind them, shoots down out of sun, zaps them with Infernos, one, two, three. Burning butterflies crash-land in pond. Alert master to my triumph. She inspects charred fragments. Her scowl deepens; turns out they were her slaves, returning with valuable information."

"The temperature of the room dropped fast."

"Im only introducing it because of a small sub-clause in an Official Charge that escaped my notice a year or two back. Unfortunately the author didnt forget. Like elephants, authors are – nothing contractual escapes them."