Christopher Moore is the name of:
It's wildly irritating to have invented something as revolutionary as sarcasm, only to have it abused by amateurs.
Why write a song when no one can play the notes or understand the lyrics?
. . . And so Charlie Asher. . . led an army of fourteen-inch-tall bundles of animal bits, armed with everything from knitting needles to a spork, into the storm sewers of San Fransciso.
The Angel Gabriel disappeared once for sixty years and they found him on earth hiding in the body of a man named Miles Davis.
Cofishes-other fish in a group, coworkers, cohorts, etc. Shut up, it's a word.
It was sometimes difficult to reconcile a man's talents with his personality.
Ack! Parables. I hate parables.
He had risked his freedom and his pride to buy her this, to acknowledge that part of her that everyone else seemed to want to get rid of.
So I am death" Charlie said then turned to his daughter while buttering his toast. "This is death toast sweety.
The Winter Woman is as wild as a blizzard, as fresh as new snow. While some see her as cold, she has a fiery heart under that ice-queen exterior. She likes the stark simplicity of Japanese art and the daring complexity of Russian literature. She prefers sharp to flowing lines, brooding to pouting, and rock and roll to country and western. Her drink is vodka, her car is German, her analgesic is Advil. The Winter Woman likes her men weak and her coffee strong. She is prone to anemia, hysteria, and suicide.
Only cops and vampires have to have an invitation to enter.
Blessed are the dumbfucks.
Why understand when you can believe?
She doesn't understand that a writer is a special creature--that I'm different from everyone else. I'm not saying I'm superior to other people, just more sensitive, I guess.
If you like what you're reading, I probably wrote it.
Ooo ahe-e, I aya oa a," she said in yawnspeak, a language - not unlike Hawaiian - known for its paucity of consonants.
One day the good times had to keep on rolling, and all of life's horseshit would turn to circuses.
Love needs room to grow. Like a rose. Or a tumor.
Chapter 8, Dinner With the Vampire: Is there something wrong with your food?" No, I'm just not very hungry. " You're going to break my heart, aren't you?
Theophilus Crowe's mobile phone played eight bars of "Tangled Up in Blue" in an irritating electronic voice that sounded like a choir of suffering houseflies, or Jiminy Cricket huffing helium, or, well, you know, Bob Dylan.