It's poor judgment', said Grandpa 'to call anything by a name. We don't know what a hobgoblin or a vampire or a troll is. Could be lots of things. You can't heave them into categories with labels and say they'll act one way or another. That'd be silly. They're people. People who do things. Yes, that's the way to put it. People who *do* things.

Names do not write poems nor do they create work.

A snake was never called by its name at night, because it would hear. It was called a string.

You can't know people, only their names.

Everybody calls me "Marty." I never know what to call myself.

I remember when your name was just another name that rolled without thought off my tongue.Now, I can__ look at your name without an abundance of sentiment attached to each lettter.Your name, which I played with so carelessly, so easily, has somehow become sacred to my lips.A name I won__ throw around lightheartedly or repeat without deep thought.And if ever I speak of you, I use the English language to describe who you were to me. You are nameless, because those letters grouped together in that familiar form_.. carries too much meaning for my capricious heart.