"Pulvis et umbra sumus. It's a line from Horace. 'We are dust and shadows'. Appropriate, don't you think?"Will said. "It's not a long life, killing demons; one tends to die young, and then they burn your body - dust to dust, in the literal sense. And then we vanish into the shadows of history, nary a mark on the page of a mundane book to remind the world that once we existed at all."
"If no one in the entire world cared about you, did you really exist at all?"
"Sometimes, when I have to do something I don't want to do, I pretend I'm a character from a book. It's easier to know what they would do."
"Remember when you tried to convince me to feed a poultry pie to the mallards in the park to see if you could breed a race of cannibal ducks?""They ate it too,"Will reminisced. "Bloodthirsty little beasts. Never trust a duck."
"Are you implying that shreds of my reputation remain intact?"Will demanded with mock horror. "Clearly I have been doing something wrong. Or not something wrong, as the case may be."He banged on the side of the carriage. "Thomas! We must away at once to the nearest brothel. I seek scandal and low companionship."
"Only the very weak-minded refuse to be influenced by literature and poetry."