“Let it be said, Marcus thought dryly,that nothing cooled a man's ardor like the Crusades.”

“A man's thoughts dye his soul, attributed to Marcus Aurelius”

“I had a thought," Bradshaw said into the silence."Amazing," Tristan returned dryly.”

“I need some shut-eye," Marcus said. "All these last-minute heroics make a man sleepy.”

“Suppose we pick a name for him, eh?" Caius Pompeius stepped over and eyed the child. "He looks a little like my proconsul, Marcus. We could call him Marcus." Josiah Worthington said, "He looks more like my head gardener, Stebbins. Not that I'm suggesting Stebbins as a name. The man drank like a fish." "He looks like my nephew Harry," said Mother Slaughter..."He looks like nobody but himself," said Mrs.Owens, firmly. "He looks like nobody." "Then Nobody it is," said Silas. "Nobody Owens.”

“An inferior sense of smell," Marcus said, as if absolutely nothing of significance had happened, "is distinct from being told that one smells unpleasant.”