names

A real Christmas baby was not to be lightly named.

And you're Cameron Wolfe. That' gotta start meaning somethin' boy. That's gotta start churnin' inside us, making us wanna be someone for those names, and not just another couple of guys who amounted to nothin' but what people said we would. No way. We're getting' out of that. We have to. We're gonna crawl and moan and fight and bite and bark at anything that gets in our way or tries to hunt us down and shoot us. All right?

Some of the people who hate me love some of the sentences that I have written, until they get to the name of the person to whom the sentences are attributed.

A monster, some called her. But in the shadows, only said in whispers, she was an angel in red.

Names didn't matter; names were for toe tags and arrest warrants, not for revenge.

Diseases aren't cured by giving them a name.

Aires and Echo Emerson. Their mother must have hated them to give them names like that.

Let us forget that we are Baptists, Methodists, Catholics, Presbyterians, or Free-thinkers, and remember only that we are men and women. After all, man and woman are the highest possible titles. All other names belittle us, and show that we have, to a certain extent, given up our individuality, and have consented to wear the collar of authority__hat we are followers. Throwing away these names, let us examine these questions not as partisans, but as human beings with hopes and fears in common.

Names sound nice because no one peeks behind the cover to see the sad face of a poem crying for meaning, while the name of the creator proudly smiles from the title.

Do you know why hurricanes have names instead of numbers? To keep the killing personal. No one cares about a bunch of people killed by a number. '200 Dead as Number Three Slams Ashore' is not nearly as interesting a headline as 'Charlie kills 200.' Death is much more satisfying and entertaining if you personalize it.Me, I'm still waitin' for Hurricane Ed. Old Ed wouldn't hurt ya, would he? Sounds kinda friendly. 'Hell no, we ain't evacuatin'. Ed's comin'!

This was his first trip on the Ossifar Distana, his first real splash in life. Look what it got him. Mister Smiff liked anonymity. He kept a low profile, often traveling under assumed names, claiming to be anything from a banker to a (very) successful life insurance salesman. Heâ__d never broken the law, at least not irreparably. He was quite generous, well liked, sponsoring many charities anonymously â_ which is why it was so surprising to find him floating face down in the private spa in his apartment, murdered. He had been murdered, unless it was a freak shaving accident. Those old razors werenâ__t called cut-throats for nothing. Yikes.

He was comparing you to the butterflies that you both adore and cherish, and he said you were special for the same reasons: you were rare, exotic and entirely you. He said you're beautiful exactly the way are now.

You used," he said, and then took a sharp breath, "to call me Augustus.

Names have power... And he kept the one I gave him. My dear, sweet Jackaby. - Eleanor

I read in a book once that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but I've never been able to believe it. I don't believe a rose WOULD be as nice if it was called a thistle or a skunk cabbage.

Once you get to naming your laptop, you know that you're really having a deep relationship with it.

Michigan, with its delicious American name. How lucky one must be to live there.

There are few things more powerful than a name. A single phrase that somehow becomes a symbol for an entire existence.