He would never abandon her, never leave a gaping hole, and even if he died someday, he was preserved like a lab specimen from all the alcohol he imbibed, so he wouldn't look or act much different.

Nom, do say something funny so she can admire!

Oh, but I like my geese. Like cats, they can't be told what to do, and like dogs, they're loyal, and like people, they talk every chance they get.

You forgot to cough!” he said. “Sorry.” She coughed. “Your sneakiness is dangerous. Next time that chisel will lodge itself in my head.” “Now, Peder, there’s plenty of stone around here for carving. No need to practice on your own face.” He stroked his chin. “You’re right, my jaw is already chiseled to perfection.” She agreed, but she felt too silly to say so aloud.

It was a pleasure, Enna, Finn, tree rat." "Did she just call you tree rat?

Really, becoming a writer sounds more like a mental illness than a professional choice.

Razo was sorely tempted to assert that all was true and he'd lost his horns and tail in a tragic childhood accident