The rule for finding plots for character-centered novels, which is to ask: 'So what's the worst possible thing I can do to *this* guy?' And then do it.

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

Oh, was that liquor of yours a stimulant?" asked Elena. "I wondered why he didn't fall asleep." "Couldn't you tell?" chuckled Mayhew. "Not really." Miles twisted his head to take in Elena's upside-down worried face, and smile in weak reassurance. Sparkly black and purple whirlpools clouded his vision. Mayhew's laughter faded. "My God," he said hollowly, "you mean he's like that all the time?

You have to be careful who you let define your good.

Never argue with a pedant over nomenclature. It wastes your time and annoys the pedant.

I miss it every minute, and I have no wish at all to go back.

Hi, I'm a hero, but I can't tell you why. It's classified.