“Do we not all agree to call rapid thought and noble impulse by the name of inspiration?”

“O how we call each other namesYou call me schizophrenicI call you GodBut we do agree on oneDeluded are we both.”

“We ought to call it something,’ said Banokles thoughtfully. ‘We can’t just keep calling it “that big bastard horse”. It ought to have a name.’ ‘What do you suggest?’ - ‘Arse Face.”

“We don't know when our name came into being or how some distant ancestor acquired it. We don't understand our name at all, we don't know its history and yet we bear it with exalted fidelity, we merge with it, we like it, we are ridiculously proud of it as if we had thought it up ourselves in a moment of brilliant inspiration”

“Do not let the rapidity with which these thoughts can change deceive you into feeling that you think them all at once.”

“Does it have a name? All of these fancy magical weapons usually have names."Bishop glared at her. "Yeah. I like to call it Goldie.""You're funny for an angel.""Not really. I'm just inspired at the moment.”