“Shakespeare asked what’s in a name. Well, each of my clones won’t be named the same as me, but they’ll be me and just as sweet.”

“If I had my clone take a test for me, it’s likely I’d misspell my own name. And I’m terrible at remembering people’s names—even if that person is me.”

“I worry about identity theft. What’s to stop somebody from cloning me to drain the cash from my bank account? And it’d be just as easy for my clone to pretend to be me as it is for me to pretend to be me.”

“If somebody kills me, at least I won’t be accused of murder. Well, assuming all my clones have alibis.”

“I want to meet a woman named Sherry who only drinks brandy, and a woman named Brandy who only drinks sherry. Then I’ll offer each one of them one magical night of sex with me, in the form of two of my clones.”

“My friends call me Wrath,” says Raffe. “My enemies call me Please Have Mercy. What’s your name, soldier boy?”