All he knew was that you couldn't hope to try for the big stuff, like world peace and happiness, but you might just about be able to achieve some tiny deed that'd make the world, in a small way, a better place. Like shooting someone.

He was certain he was anorectic, because every time he looked in a mirror he saw a fat man. It was the Archchancellor, standing behind him and shouting at him.

If failure had no penalty success would not be a prize.

A push-and-go wooden duck on wheels can cause quite a lot of damage if wielded with enough force.

I don't read an awful lot of fiction and when I do, it tends to be lightweight stuff.

Sometimes the truth is arrived at by adding all the little lies together and deducting them from the totality of what is known.

If cats looked like frogs we'd realize what nasty, cruel little bastards they are. Style. That's what people remember.