“Let’s get to know each other. My name’s William, William More, but you can call me Willy. I’m an engineer-chemist who graduated from MIT. So . . . but you’re all alike to me . . . of course, you would be . . . you’re robots. And all your names are that sort of, um . . . codes, technical numbers . . . I need some marker where I can pick you out. Well, well, to you I’ll call . . .,” and Willy pondered for a moment, “Gumball, yes, Gumball! Do you mind?” “No, sir, actually no,” CSE-TR-03 said, agreeing with its new given name. “Ah, that’s wonderful. And then you’re Darwin,” Willy said, accosting the second robot. “Look what a nice name—Darwin! What do you say, eh?” “What can I say, sir? I like it,” CSE-TR-02 agreed too. “Yes, a human name with a past . . . You and Gumball . . . are from the same family, the Methanesons!” “It turns out thus, sir,” Darwin confirmed its family belonging. “And you’re like Larry. You’re Larry. Do you know that?” More addressed the next robot in line. “Yes, sir, just now I learned that,” the third robot said, accepted its name as well.”
― Todor Bombov, Homo Cosmicus 2: Titan: A Science Fiction Novel

“You don’t think he’s our man?” asked Adam. It occurred to him that Ramsbottom was not exactly forthcoming with information.
“I didn’t say that,” Ramsbottom said. “In fact he is behaving very cautiously indeed, which makes me feel very suspicious.”
“He has probably figured out that you are following him,” said Adam. “One can hardly fail to notice you hanging around all the time.”
“That may be so,” said Ramsbottom.
“Can’t you get a disguise or something?” asked Adam. “So he does not recognise you.”
― Max Nowaz, Get Rich or Get Lucky

“[He]
Spoke and rose to full height, sword in air,
Then cleft the man's brow square between the temples
Cutting his head in two -- a dreadful gash
Between the cheeks all beardless. Earth resounded
Quivering at the great shock of his weight
As he went tumbling down in all his armor,
Drenched with blood and brains; in equal halves
His head hung this and that way from his shoulders.”
― Virgil, The Aeneid

“He sounds like a politician running for office.”
― March Lions, The Last Sunset