Words, Words, Words, A Million Million Words

It Was An Eight-harlot Inn, If That's How You Measure An Inn. (i Understand That Now They Measure Inns In Stars. We Are In A Four-star Inn Right Now. I Don't Know What The Conversion From Harlots To Stars Is.)

In Fact, He Sorely Hoped That It Would Happen, Because Otherwise, The World Made No Sense, There Was No Justice, And Life Was Just A Tangled Ball Of Chaos.

It's Wildly Irritating To Have Invented Something As Revolutionary As Sarcasm, Only To Have It Abused By Amateurs.

The Fact That 'a Dirty Job' Has Comedy And Supernatural Horror In It, That Both Are Woven In And Out Of It With A Whimsical Tone, Despite The Fact That It's About Death, Makes It Hard To Characterize With Standard Genre Labels - But I Have No Problem With That. I'd Call It A Funny Story About Death, And Leave It At That.

Sweetheart, Wake Up; You've Destroyed The House And I Need You To Suffer For It.