“Darby, sir, but Janus they call me,” the seaman said, “on account of a surgeon we shipped in the Sophie, a learned bloke, saying I saw both ways like some old Roman cut-up by that name.”

“Names are just words. I know that. But learning that the last name I’d used all my life was fake…“So what should I call myself, then?” I asked. “Sophie Atherton? Sophie Brannick?” Both sounded weird and made me feel like I was wearing clothes that didn’t fit.Mom smiled and brushed my hair away from my face. “You can call yourself whatever you want.”“Okay. Sophie Awesome Sparkle-Princess it is.”

“These dogs are not fighting.""Yes they are. Like the paintings we saw in the Louvre," said Lucien. "Gecko-Roman wrestling Father called it.""Ah, of course," said Pissarro, as if it had become clear. "Yes, Gecko-Roman dog wrestling. Superb! I presume you haven't shown your wrestling dogs to Madame Lessard, then.”

“But do I need to say anything?" Sophie asked. "Do I need to learn any words?""Like what?" Saint-Germain said."Well, when you lit up the Eiffel tower, you said something that sounded like eggness." "Ignis," the count said. "Latin for fire. No, you don't need to say anything." "Then why did you do it, then?" Sophie asked. Saint-Germain grinned. "I just thought it sounded cool.”

“I challenge you to find a more innocuous sentence containing the words sperm, suction, swallow, and any homophone of seaman. And then call me up on the homophone and read it to me.”

“I do not like to sound discontented neither,' said Pullings, 'nor to crab any ship I belong to; but between you and me, Doctor, between you and me, she is more what we call a floating coffin than a ship.”