The bottom half of the page had descended into a doodle of a tiny man giving the middle finger to a giant, angry eagle with razor-sharp talons. Beneath it, the caption: To Mock a Killing Bird.

The day Henry made a choice... that some men are just too interesting to die.

I nearly broke out laughing when the wrteched soothsayer warned Caesar: "Beware the Ides of April." I thought it a miracle (and a relief) that no one in the udience had snickered or yelled out a correction. How could such an error be made by an actor? Had my ears deceived me?

Most men have no purpose but to exist, Abraham; to pass quietly through history as minor characters upon a stage they cannot even see

Any man who has seen the face of death knows better than to seek him out a second time.

There are so many stories to tell in the worlds of science fiction, the worlds of fantasy and horror that to confine yourself to even doing historical revisionist fiction, whatever you want to call it - mash-ups, gimmick lit, absurdist fiction - I don't know if I want to do that anymore.

All I ask is that my final months be happy ones, and that I be permitted a husband who will see to my proper Christian beheading and burial.