Getting an idea for a book is not the problem, but you need 300 ideas – an idea a page.
BARBARA MERTZCats always made up to the people who hated them the most. Depending on how you chose to look at it, it was a touching manifestation of trust, or a malicious pleasure in human discomfort.
More Barbara Mertz Quotes
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It was hate at first sight, clean, pure and strong as grain alcohol.
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Conventional history completely ignores half the human race.
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I have no writing habit. I work when I feel like it, and I work when I have to – mostly the latter.
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Superstition has its practical uses.
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Nothing looks as self-satisfied as a contented cat.
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There was no warning, not even a knock. The door flew open, and he forgot his present aches and pains in anticipation of what lay in store. The figure that stood in the door was not that of an enemy. It was worse. It was his mother.
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Writing is like a bird-watcher watching for birds: the stories are there: you just have to train yourself to look for them.
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Since I am not as stupid as my children believe I am, I had immediately realized this might be a ruse, but I was not at all averse to a confrontation. In fact, I had been hoping for some such thing.
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Sekhmet crawled onto Ramses’s lap and began to purr. ‘The creature oozes like a furry slug,’ said Ramses, eyeing it without favor.
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Husbands do not care to be contradicted. Indeed, I do not know anyone who does.
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If all else fails, we will simply have to drug our attendants, overpower the guards, raise the oppressed peasants to arms, and take over the government.
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The only people who are not in awe of Emerson’s powerful voice and well-nigh superhuman strength are the members of his own family. He is aware of this, and often complains about it; so from time to time I like to put on a little show of being intimidated. ‘Proceed, my dear,’ I said apologetically.
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If someone lies down and invites you to trample upon him, you are a remarkable individual if you decline the invitation.
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In the silence I heard Bastet, who had retreated under the bed, carrying on a mumbling, profane monologue. (If you ask how I knew it was profane, I presume you have never owned a cat.)
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Another dead body. Every year it is the same. Every year, another dead body.
BARBARA MERTZ