Suppose we pick a name for him, eh?" Caius Pompeius stepped over and eyed the child. "He looks a little like my proconsul, Marcus. We could call him Marcus." Josiah Worthington said, "He looks more like my head gardener, Stebbins. Not that I'm suggesting Stebbins as a name. The man drank like a fish." "He looks like my nephew Harry," said Mother Slaughter... "He looks like nobody but himself," said Mrs.Owens, firmly. "He looks like nobody." "Then Nobody it is," said Silas. "Nobody Owens.

When I was a child, adults would tell me not to make things up, warning me of what would happen if I did. As far as I can tell so far, it seems to involve lots of foreign travel and not having to get up too early in the morning.

Anyone who believes what a cat tells him deserves all he gets.

Actually I didn't shoot a man in Reno just to watch him die, but he could tell I was extremely cross.

If you only write when inspired, you may be a fairly decent poet, but you'll never be a novelist.

I really don't know what "I love you" means. I think it means "Don't leave me here alone.

Writing imaginative tales for the young is like sending coals to Newcastle. For coals.