The oldest fan letter I've had is from someone aged eighty-five.

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.

If there's one thing that really annoys a god, it's not knowing something.

Joy is to fun what the deep sea is to a puddle. It’s a feeling inside that can hardly be contained.

If complete and utter chaos was lightning, then he'd be the sort to stand on a hilltop in a thunderstorm wearing wet copper armour and shouting 'All gods are bastards!

If Not You, Who Else?

Although she was aware that somewhere under her complicated strata of vests and petticoats there was some skin, that didn't mean to say she approved of it.