For 3 million you could give everyone in Scotland a shovel, and we could dig a hole so deep we could hand her over to Satan in person. (on Margaret Thatcher)

It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye. Then it's fun and games you can't see anymore.

Lucifer, how, after a dozen millennia in Hell, could you possibly lose your way?" the Devil asked incredulously. "Well," the lesser demon began, "It is a rather large place...

What's a Dullahan?'
'He's a headless horseman, in the service of the banshee.'
'Headless?'
'Yes.'
'Seriously?'
'Yes.'
'So he has no head?'
'That's usually what headless means.'
'No head at all?'
'You're really getting hung up on this headless thing, aren't you?'
'It's just kind of silly, even for us.'
'Yet you spend your days with a living skeleton.'
'But at least he has a head.'
'True.'
'He even has a spare.

If you want to know the Correct term for me, I'm a Dark-Hunter."
Nick digested that word slowly. "Which means what? You hunt darkness?"
"Yes, Nick. That's exactly what I do. There's just not enough of it." Now, there was some sarcasm you could cut with a knife.

I looked at the stained-glass image of the lamb in the window above me, but that only reminded me that lambs are famous for being led to slaughter, or sometimes hanging out with lions in ill-advised relationships.