In a calm, clear voice, she suggested that the wyrsa in question could do several highly improbable, athletically difficult and possibly biologically impractical things involving its own mother, a few household implements, and a dead...

Merlin’s pants!

Hell’s holy stars and freaking stones shit bells.

I will call no being good who is not what I mean when I apply that epithet to my fellow creatures; and if such a creature can sentence me to hell for not so calling...

ohmygoodNESS!

Braccas meas vescimini!”I wasn’t sure where the Latin came from. I think it meant ‘Eat my pants!

Blasphemy is an epithet bestowed by superstition upon common sense.

Don’t talk to your mother like that.