And now," Eric yelled into his mircophone, "we're going to sing a new song-one we just wrote. This one's for my girlfriend. We've been going out for three weeks, and, damn, our love is true. We're gonna be together forever, baby. This one's called 'Bang You Like a Drum.

I hated meatloaf. It was like something that Satan pooped out after an eternity of constipation. So I told Mom because I was honest that way. I sat back, squared my shoulders, and met her eyes, all confident-like."Mom, meatloaf's like something that Satan pooped out after an eternity of constipation. It should be outlawed, frankly, and serving it for dinner is like child abuse and should carry with it some pretty stiff penalties.

Political problems ruin meals. Let it be known as Eric’s Law of Lunch henceforth.

Ariel: “Eric!”Eric: “Do not sing me back to shore! Not until you are standing on two feet!

I do love you. I love you enough to accept who you are. Why can’t I received the same feeling in return?”-Ariel

Running her fingers on the scales, she sighs. “I wonder what its like to be a human?”“Why won’t you just go and find out?” the question startled her. She whirled around to come face to face with her evil aunt; Ursula.

How charming. The king and his little princess knocking on my covens door.” Ursula sighed dramatically. “What do you insolent merfolks want with me now? I swear I haven’t eaten any of your children.”-Ursula

She probably fell asleep and was washed away by the tortoise waves!”-Arista

Father, what are you to do now?”Triton’s sneer grew scarier. “She broke the law.” turning away from the terrified faces of his daughters. “She must die.

It took place in the midnight in the University's Great Hall, in a welter of incense, candlesticks, runic inscriptions and magic circles, none of which was strictly necessary but which made the wizards feel better.

Political problems ruin meals. Let it be known as Eric’s Law of Lunch henceforth.

She winced and covered her ears as Eric,onstage, wrestled with his microphone."Sorry about that, guys!" he yelled. "All right. I'm Eric, and this is my homeboy Matt on the drums. My first poem is called 'Untitled.'" He screwed up his face as if in pain, and wailed into the mike. "Come my faux juggernaut, my nefarious loins! Slather every protuberance with arid zeal!"Simon slid down in his seat. "Please don't tell anyone I know him."Clary giggled. "Who uses the word 'loins'?""Eric," Simon said grimly. "All his poems have loins in them."'Turgid is my torment!" Eric wailed. "Agony swells within!""You bet it does," Clary said.

Sunday is God's day, and he was committed to honoring it. Just because he was in Paris to compete in the Olympics didn't justify changing his lifelong commitment.