Quotes from Steve Hockensmith

Without Leonard Nimoy, there would have been no 'Star Trek' phenomenon. And without 'Star Trek'... well, that's a parallel universe most of us probably wouldn't want to visit.

Good titles are hard, people. Just ask the guy who came up with 'Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium.'

Walking out in the middle of a funeral would be, of course, bad form. So attempting to walk out on one's own was beyond the pale.

Failure is but the longer road to triumph.

A battle cry" Mr. Bennet said "is a warrior's calling card. Only it does not say 'Good afternoon. I have come for tea and crumpets.' It says 'Death has come for you! Flee or be killed where you stand!

The conversation limped along this line of thought much like a zombie: lifeless and mindless and making a jelly of whatever healthy brains were within its reach.

So she did the English thing. She changed the subject.

Could it really be this easy to land a handsome man? If so, why didn't I try it ages ago?

Lieutenant Tindall told me I'd find you up here tilting at putrid windmills. Now I know what he meant.

Doubt, Master Liu always said, is death.

Somewhere in the city, Pestilence was raising an army for its fellow horseman, Death.

Shy, delicate, gentle Jane, though the eldest, could no more initiate conversation with a newly met man than a rose petal could belch.

Longbows, crossbows, hair bows, rainbows - that's not the point.

We can honor what lies behind us without being a slave to it," Kitty said.

Let's make a game of it, shall we?" she said. "Whoever kills the most, wins." "I will kill twenty!" Lydia declared. "I will kill thirty!" Kitty countered. Mary paused for a moment of sober calculation. "I will kill thirty-two." she said. "I will kill as long as I must," said Jane. "And I will kill as long as I can," said Elizabeth

He checked himself without really looking at himself. He was ten pounds heavier and a few dozen hairs grayer than he'd been the year before. He knew that. He didn't need to see it again.

Though animals would do in a pinch, there wasn't a zombie alive (so to speak) who'd choose one over fresh homo sapiens.

but it could have gone worse." "Indeed," her father replied. "At least none of us were eaten.

A world with zombies in it had no tolerance for softness or sentiment. The dreadfuls infected everything just by virtue of existing. To live in their world, one had to become like them. Dead inside. So

The Irishman raises his beer and says "sluncha" or "slawn chair" or something like that, obviously a Gaelic toast, and we bellow "sluncha!" and clink glasses and take long, deep, manly, Irish pub drinks.

Hey there! You have reached the voice mailbox of GW Fletcher. If you've got something nice to say, wait for the tone. If you don't, do us both a favor and hang up now, asshole. Ha! Just kidding, Mom! You can go ahead and leave a message, too.

by the time this business is done, we'll all be roaming about in our shrouds with fresh brain smeared around our mouths like so much marmalade, you mark my words!

It hadn't turned out at all like the picture in the cookbook, that loaf. It looked like a roll of fiberglass insulation coated in gravel.

You're all so quick to point out what you can't do. The time has come to learn what you can.