Trust Me. I'm A Genius.

Hey, If You Can't Remember, Don't Worry About It. I'm Having A Few Memory Problems Myself In This Place. Little Things Like How Long I've Been Here, What My Purpose In Life Is, Which Feet To Put My Shoes On. Stuff Like That.

Hey, Look Your Girlfriend Is Saying Something. Artemis Had A Vast Mental Reserve Of Scathing Comebacks At His Disposal, But None Of Them Covered Girlfriend Insults. He Wasn't Even Sure If It Was An Insult. And If It Was, Who Was Being Insulted? Him Or The Girl?

The Craft's Occupants Clutched Their Armrests, And More Than One Of Them Closed Their Eyes. But Not Artemis. He Couldn't. There Was Something Morbidly Fascinating About Flying Into An Uncharted Tunnel At A Reckless Speed With Only A Kleptomaniac Dwarf's Word For What Lay At The Other End.

Don't You Worry About That, Mr. Adamsson. Why Don't You Head Back To Reykjavik And Spend Some Of That Extortionate Fee You Charged Me For A Couple Of Hours' Usage Of Your Frankly Third-rate Restaurant And Perhaps Find A Friendless Tree Stump To Listen To Your Woes?

Anything Can Be Real. Every Imaginable Thing Is Happening Somewhere Along The Dimensional Axis. These Things Happen A Billion Times Over With Exactly The Same Outcome And No One Learns Anything. Whatever A Person Can Think, Imagine, Wish For, Or Believe Has Already Come To Pass. Dreams Come True All The Time, Just Not For The Dreamers.