And it came to pass that in time the Great God Om spake unto Brutha, the Chosen One: "Psst!

If you were going to be successful in the world of crime, you needed a reputation for honesty.

If the government ever imposes a tax on books - and I wouldn't put it past them - I'm in dead trouble.

Drinks like this tend to get called Traffic Lights or Rainbow's Revenge or, in places where truth is more highly valued, Hello and Good-Bye, Mr. Brain Cell.

Don't stick your nose where someone can pull it off and eat it.

You know how to pray, don’t you? Just put your hands together and hope.

I believe it should be possible for someone stricken with a serious and ultimately fatal illness to choose to die peacefully with medical help, rather than suffer.