The man in black fled across the desert and the gunslinger followed.

Words matter. Words make ideas. They preserve truths and history. They express freedom and they shape it. Words mold our thoughts. That gives them value and power.

"You must be thinking of stories from other cultures. Irish women tend to kick ass and do whatever they want. For examples A, B, and C, I give you the Morrigan, Brighid, and Flidais."

"This was what men like Edison and J.P. Morgan feared. Tesla and his students had only their inventiveness going for them. These men built things because they were smart. They were eager and they were precocious and they were curious. Paul wanted always to live in an America in which Thomas Edison would fear a smart kid in a basement whose father had harvested enough cotton that his son might harvest volts."

How #bookworms spend #Halloween! Fire, supper, book....okay that's a daiquiri in the Hamilton glass.

Everything starts somewhere, although many physicists disagree.

“Quite right. So after I killed him and stowed his body next to the doe, I sampled his smoothie concoction in the parking lot and found it to be quite delicious.”
See, sentences like that are why I nurture a healthy fear of the Tuatha Dé Danann.

The Burgess sisters arrive together. Tara and Lainie do a little bit of everything. Sometimes dancers, sometimes actresses. Once they were librarians, but that is a subject they will only discuss if heavily intoxicated.

"Do you ever find yourself climbing into an open grave during a bomb raid," I said, "and just wish you'd stayed in bed?"
Enoch kicked my shoe. "Quit stalling."

Of course the one time I make it past page 10 of a Jane Austen novel is when there are zombies involved!

"I'm getting us to the beach," Percy explained. "I fight better near water."
"Because Poseidon?" Meg asked, steadying herself against the door handle.
"Yep," Percy agreed. "That pretty much describes my entire life: Because Poseidon."

The edge in her voice had more than one reason: She, Abigail, would have been a Daughter of Liberty herself, had such an organization existed - and had she not been either carrying a child or nursing one for most of the proceeding nine years (thank you, John).

"Any advice?" She hummed, thinking. "I've always liked that Galway Kinnell poem. 'Wait, for now. Distrust everything, if you have to. But trust the hours. Haven't they carried you everywhere, up to now?'"

- with the additional advantage, unlike black, of not showing up in the dark.*
*Every Assassin knew that real black often stood out in the dark, because the night in the city is usually never full black. But they wore black anyway, because style trumps utility every time.