Harry Dresden: Santa is a much bigger and more powerful faery than Toot, and I don't know his true name… — Jim Butcher

Harry Dresden: Tequila? Are you sure on that one? I thought the base for a love potion was supposed to be champagne.

Bob: Champagne, tequila, what's the difference, so long as it'll lower her inhibitions?

Harry Dresden: Uh, I'm thinking it's going to get us a, um, sleazier result.

Harry Dresden: The world is getting weirder. Darker every single day. Things are spinning around faster and faster, and threatening to go completely awry. Falcons and falconers. The center cannot hold. But in my corner of the country, I'm trying to nail things down. I don't want to live in Victor's jungle, even if it did eventually devour him. I don't want to live in a world where the strong rule and the weak cower. I'd rather make a place where things are a little quieter. Where trolls stay the hell under their bridges and where elves don't come swooping out to snatch children from their cradles. Where vampires respect the limits, and where the faeries mind their p's and q's. My name is Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. Conjure by it at your own risk. When things get strange, when what goes bump in the night flicks on the lights, when no one else can help you, give me a call. I'm in the book.

Harry Dresden: Paranoid? Probably. But just because you're paranoid doesn't mean that there isn't an invisible demon about to eat your face.