How could you be a Great Man if history brought you no Great Events, or brought you to them at the wrong time, too young, too old?

Poets speak of hope in ladies smiles, but give me a smirk any day, I say.

I have a catch-phrase to describe my plot-generation technique -- 'What's the worst possible thing I can do to these people?'

This wasn't prayer anyway, it was just argument with the gods. Prayer, he suspected as he hoisted himself up and turned for the door, was putting one foot in front of the other. Moving all the same.

Guard your honor. Let your reputation fall where it will. And outlive the bastards.

But have you ever overheard two women discussing men? Men are crude liars, comparing their drabs, but women - I'd rather have [an] anatomist dissect me alive than to listen to the things the ladies say about us when they think they are alone.

The dead cannot cry out for justice. It is a duty of the living to do so for them.