I fear that I am losing my mind. But really, it would not be such a precious thing to lose, as it only causes me pain.

I can smell the smoke now. I can see tendrils of it comin' up between the cracks in the shrikin' floorboards. There she is, calmly taking down the framed examples of fine embroideries, samplers, and needlework from teh hallway wall and tucking them under her arm. "Mistress! Come on! You've got to leave!" She calmly turns and faces me. "Why?" she asks. "The British are coming?" "Only one, Mistress," I say

And if that is the Foremast, what do you think that sail might be called, Mr. Wheeler?" "The Foresail?" "Very good, Mr. Wheeler, and the next one up would be called..." ..."The Next Sail, Sir?" "Alas, no, Mr. Wheeler.

What's the matter Jaimy? Ain't-cha never seen a girl before? -Jacky Faber

A girl what's born for hangin' ain't likely to be drowned.

But surely we are not allowed..." "Allowed?" I counters. "We're allowed to do anything in this world until someone says we ain't allowed and that someone can back it up.

Why did I follow her? If you must know, Sir, it was easy. Pound for pound, Puss-in-Boots was the best commander I ever served under.