“Harry Dresden: Maybe it wasn't anything I'd done. Maybe the monsters had gone on strike. Yeah right.”

“Maybe I was being too picky. Maybe I didn't want to be close to anyone. Maybe I'd just be the type who couldn't feel love all the way or something. I couldn't tell what was wrong, but what was wrong was that it just wasn't right.”

“Harry Dresden: The freaking Council never does anything quickly, and I had a bad feeling that tempus was fugiting furiously.”

“Harry Dresden: Even a broken clock gets it right occasionally.”

“I would have done anything for him. Maybe that was my sickness.”

“Maybe I'd think that, too, Caesar," says Petta bitterly, "if it weren't for the baby."
There. He's done it again.”

“Maybe you're going insane."
"Maybe," agreed Kernel.
"I was joking."
"I wasn't.”

“Maybe the world.. has run out of room.. for monsters.”

“Mrs. Sandoval," Homer said swiftly, "your son is dead. Maybe it's a mistake. Maybe it wasn't your son. Maybe it was somebody else. The telegram says it was Juan Domingo. But maybe the telegram is wrong.”

“He knew I'd seen everything in that alley, that I'd stood there and done nothing. He knew that I'd betrayed him and yet he was rescuing me once again, maybe for the last time.”