Don't want to get tipsy and break a hip.

I just think I'm better equipped to make a study of human personality than trying to get into the mind of animals.

Sometimes I think if I had to choose between an ear of corn or making love to a woman, I'd choose the corn.

Juliet is one of those rare novels that has it all: lush prose, tightly intertwined parallel narratives, intrigue, and historical detail all set against a backdrop of looming danger. Anne Fortier casts a new light on one of history's greatest stories of passion. I was swept away.

How hard can it be to find a girl and an elephant for Christ's sake?

I strain to hear, but my old ears, for all their obscene hugeness, pick up nothing but snippets.

He stares at me, and then leans back in his chair. "He's ill, Jacob." I say nothing. "He's a paragon schnitzophonic." "He's what?!" "Paragon schnitzophonic," repeats Uncle Al. "You mean paranoid schizophrenic?" "Sure. Whatever. But the bottom line is he's mad as a hatter.