Mortals simply aren't what they used to be," he said. "A thousand years ago, you would have bartered your immortal soul for a crust of stale bread. Now I can't even get you to gamble at all, even for your freedom.

I love arguing with you, Claire. You always surprise me. And occasionally, you even make sense.

Is this your bedroom?" she asked, and turned to look at him. Myrnin straightened and jammed the big red floppy hat back on his head. The feathers waved back and forth.
"Don't get any ideas," he said. "I'm far too young and innocent for that kind of thinking.

[Myrnin to Claire about their costumes of Pierrot and Harlequin, respectively]
"Don't they teach you anything in your schools?"
"Not about this."
"Pity. I suppose that's what comes of your main education flowing from Google.

She thought, just for a second, that they were going to bare fangs at each other . . . and then Myrnin smiled. "I suppose I should say thank you."
"It would be customary," Oliver agreed.
Myrnin turned to Claire. "Thank you."
Somehow, she guessed that wasn't what Oliver had expected; she certainly hadn't. It was the kind of snub that got most people hurt in Morganville, but then again, she guessed Myrnin wasn't most people, even to Oliver.
Oliver didn't react. If there was a small red glow in the depths of his eyes, it could have been a reflection from the lights.

But why can't we just order what we need? Or buy it?"
Myrnin flicked the silver ring on his right hand into the bars of his cell, setting up a metallic ringing. "None of that. Modern children are fools, slaves to the work of others, dependent for everything. Not you. You will learn how to build your tools as well as use them."
"You want me to be an engineer?"
"Is it not a useful thing for one who studies physics to understand such practical applications?"
She stared at him doubtfully. "You're not going to make me get an anvil and make my own screwdrivers or anything, are you?"
Myrnin smiled slowly. "What a good idea! I'll consider it.