I love mysteries, and I read them every night before I go to bed.

What I thought we ought to try to do in a book like this is to focus closely on Lincoln, himself, to see what he knew, how he knew it, how he came to make the decisions that he did, and how he implemented them.

I love mysteries, and I read them every night before I go to bed.

But having said all of that, that still doesn't account for a lot of the increase in popularity which stems, I think, from Lincoln's personal characteristics.

The more I have studied Lincoln, the more I have followed his thought processes, the more I am convinced that he understood leadership better than any other American president.

Maybe I will write a memoir, perhaps I'll do some essays, or maybe I will write a mystery story.

At the beginning, Lincoln was so inexperienced he had reverence for military expertise, not realizing that there wasn't any military expertise, that the most anybody had commanded up to that point had been somebody, some troops in the Mexican War, and it had been years ago.

And, finally, Lincoln was not a good impromptu speaker; he was at his best when he could read from a carefully prepared manuscript. Though maybe a teleprompter could have helped that!

In Lincoln's day a President's religion was a very private affair. There were no public prayer meetings, no attempts to woo the Religious Right. Few of Lincoln's countrymen knew anything at all of his religious beliefs.

The big biography of Lincoln necessarily had to do so much with his political career, his ambitions, his accomplishments in public, with less time to spend on his private life, his inner life, and I thought this might be a way of getting at that.

I'm not sure Lincoln would fare well if he were a presidential candidate today.

If you think about it, the historian's task is like that of the detective.

I was able to sit at Lincoln's side and see how he thought and how he acted, and how he felt about what was going on around him. I felt the pressures that were on him. You can see what people were writing to him, how they were nudging him.

But I have tried to go over it very carefully, not merely what the evidence is, but with psychoanalysts and psychologists, and I think we're just about all agreed that Lincoln and Speed did not have a homosexual relationship.

I think, with the gay liberation movement has had need for heroes and heroines, and it would be rather nice to have Abraham Lincoln as your poster boy, wouldn't it?

Well, it seems to me Lincoln, I suppose, is kind of a model of a particular sort of presidency, a presidency that first of all is elected by a minority of the votes.

Lincoln had no such person that he could talk with. Often, as a result, he debated with himself, and he would draw up a kind of list of the pros and cons of an argument, and carefully figure them out, and he might test them in public.

One of the most adventurous things left us is to go to bed. For no one can lay a hand on our dreams.

I have a toy giraffe on my bed. I've got photographs over my desk as well as a mask of a giraffe in my kitchen. I am totally hooked.

I was stuck at home in bed with me and got more and more involved with the Internet. I used it to keep in contact with friends and to make sure I was up to date with everything that was going on in the world.

This is the very womb and bed of enormity.

If kids like a picture book, they're going to read it at least 50 times. Read anything that often, and even minor imperfections start to feel like gravel in the bed.

The best thing about lying in bed late is that you learn to distinguish between first things and trivia, for whatever presses on you has to prove its importance before it makes you move.

I'm a 7 o'clock act. My people want to go to a show, a dinner and then go home and go to bed.

In so many interviews, they bring up the sexual aspect of the record. I've had some journalists say it sounds like I'm lying down in bed singing with a microphone. It gets so old!

Once, the parental bed collapsed because all the children sat on it at once.

I got sick and tired of my lady wearing ugly underwear to bed, so I turned to the Internet.

I miss Saturday morning, rolling out of bed, not shaving, getting into my car with my girls, driving to the supermarket, squeezing the fruit, getting my car washed, taking walks.

Theses officers were good friends, so it must have been a terrible argument, because the one who played chess with my father was so angry that he walked over to the dentist's house and got the dentist out of bed and shot him.

What happens when the guy who runs the reactor gets out of bed wrong or decides, for some reason, that he wants to override his instruction sheet some afternoon?

Mom and Dad would stay in bed on Sunday morning, but the kids would have to go to church.

I could be with a woman in a bed, for weeks even, and it would seem to me like three seconds. Or 300 years.

Well I was an asthmatic child. So that for most of my childhood I was in bed. Bedridden.

But for the first time in many years, I get to sleep in my own bed every night. I haven't done that, literally, in years. It seems like such a small thing, but it is so nice.

When I was playing I felt tired all the time. My recovery period was a lot longer than the other players. They'd be ok after an hour - I'd have to stay in bed till the next session.

Never get out of bed before noon.

This life is a hospital in which every patient is possessed with a desire to change his bed.

So I'm more at home with my backpack, sleeping in a hotel room or on a bus or on an airplane, than I am necessarily on a bed. It's weird being here. It feels like I'm standing next to my real life.

Evil is unspectacular and always human, and shares our bed and eats at our own table.

A woman should say: "Have I made him happy? Is he satisfied? Does he love me more than he loved me before? Is he likely to go to bed with another woman?" If he does, then it's the wife's fault because she is not trying to make him happy.

Marriage is like life - it is a field of battle, not a bed of roses.

The bed is a bundle of paradoxes: we go to it with reluctance, yet we quit it with regret; we make up our minds every night to leave it early, but we make up our bodies every morning to keep it late.

Whoever thinks of going to bed before twelve o'clock is a scoundrel.

I returned to upstate NY where I just laid in bed for days with a fever that just wouldn't go away. After more of this, I grew increasingly sure that this was not simply the flu!

To my embarrassment I was born in bed with a lady.

With me it is exceptionally true that the Presidency is no bed of roses.

I pushed myself way too hard during the first year of Veronica Mars and I got moody and run-down. Now I'll go to bed early instead of going out with friends. It's not always the most fun option, but I know I need at least eight hours of sleep to feel balanced.

In our story logic which we're making up, if we're saying he's alive, then like a quadriplegic who's in bed he can move his head and shoulders, but he can't move his arms. If he could just turn on that power to his legs and arms, the nerves could get through and he could walk.

Now when I came to go up to operations, I went down to this patient's room and got down on my knees at the foot of the bed and earnestly asked the Lord to help us and to help me.