Running ain't no bad thing. Leastways if you run in the right direction.

What's it going to take for you to open that door? Gold? Blood?"

"Your name and password."

"My name is Honorous Jorg Ancrath, my password is divine right. Now open the fecking door.

The way I’d put it,” said Makin, “is that Rike can’t make an omelet without wading thigh deep in the blood of chickens and wearing their entrails as a necklace.

Those were great big angry men with sharp swords actually wanting to cut pieces off me. It’s not until you’ve seen a red gaping wound and all the complex little bits inside a man all broken up and sliced open, and known that they weren’t ever getting back together again, and vomited your last two meals over the rocks . . . it’s not until then that you understand the business of swords properly and, if you’re a sensible man you vow to have nothing to do with it ever again.

I hereby excommunicate you from the Milky Way!

We have seen the best minds of our generation destroyed by boredom at poetry readings.