Most traditional ghost stories feature rather hapless protagonists, who have nasty things happen to them.

And then, as if written by the hand of a bad novelist, an incredible thing happened.

That's usually how they start, the young ones. Meaningless waffle.

Then again, Solomon was human. And that meant he was flawed (Go on, take a look at yourself in the mirror. A good long look, if you can bear it. See? Flawed's putting it mildly, isn't it?)

One magician demanded I show him an image of the love of his life. I rustled up a mirror.

That's usuаllу hоw thеу start, thе young оnеs. Meaningless waffle.

The Amulet of Samarkand. It was Simon Lovelace's. Now it is yours. Soon it will be Simon Lovelace's again. Take it and enjoy the consequences.

Can you define "plan" as "a loose sequence of manifestly inadequate observations and conjectures, held together by panic, indecision, and ignorance"? If so, it was a very good plan.

That's a gesture of endearment in some cultures. Some hug, some kiss, some set each other on fire in small patches of woodland

When I write something that would have made me laugh as a 10-year-old, or would have scared me or would have excited me, I know I'm onto something.

Haven't you done enough for a lifetime? Think about it - two power - crazed magicians killed, a hundred power - crazed magicians saved.

Let me get this straight. You didn’t feel it would be acceptable to enter my home without permission, but taking my clothes was just fine and dandy?” -Marin

There is no word equivalent to 'cuckold' for women.

Just because it happened to you, doesn't mean it's interesting.

As of now, string theorists have no explanation of why there are three large dimensions as well as time, and the other dimensions are microscopic. Proposals about that have been all over the map.

When did having a life become an event you had to schedule?

Honest businessmen should be protected from the unscrupulous consumer.

Leading with integrity is embracing honesty! We should always use our weaknesses to point others to Christ's strength.

Hello!” The girl in the blood-red dress beamed at Leo. “Are you Dionysus?” There was only one answer to that. “Yes!” Leo yelped. “Absolutely. I am Dionysus.

Fortunately, I happened to go east at a time when live television was centered in New York.

I have found the heart and will never leave This house of light.