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“I must have entered a time warp or I've fallen into the Twilight Zone. Which is it?"
"Neither. You're at the harbor in San Felipe, and you're looking at your home for the next two weeks."
"Good lord, an honest-to-God steamboat with a walking beam engine and side paddlewheels."
"I must admit it does have an air of Mark Twain about it."
"What do you want to bet it ferried Grant's troops across the Mississippi to Vicksburg?”
― Clive Cussler, Inca Gold

“Picture writing, as in Egyptian hieroglyphics?"
"Very similar."
"What we might call an illustrated comic strip."
"Only without the panels. The panels were never fully deciphered.”
― Clive Cussler, Inca Gold

“Julia looked at her watch. "Lunchtime," she announced, opening the picnic basket she had packed at the bed and breakfast. "Anybody besides me hungry?"
"I'm always hungry," Giordino called out from the back of the boat.
"Amazing." Pitt shook his head incredulously. "At twelve feet away, outside in a breeze with the roar of the outboard motor, he can still hear the mere mention of food."
"What delicacies have you prepared?" Giordino asked Julia, having dragged himself to the cabin doorway.
"Apples, granola bars, carrots, and herbal ice tea. You have your choice between hummus and avocado sandwiches. It's what I call a healthy lunch."
Every man on the boat looked at each of the others with utter horror. She couldn't have received a more unpalatable reaction if she had said she was volunteering their services as diaper changers at a day care center. Out of deference to Julia none of the men said anything negative, since she went to the bother of fixing lunch. The fact that she was a woman and their mothers had raised them all as gentlemen added to the dilemma. Giordino, however, did not come from the old school. He complained vociferously.
"Hummus and avocado sandwiches," he said disgustedly. "I'm going to throw myself off the boat and swim to the nearest Burger King...”
― Clive Cussler, Flood Tide

“I never got Dad's name."
"The name on an envelope that was sticking out of his pocket read 'Clive Cussler.'"
"That IS an odd name. Yet it sounds vaguely familiar."
"Whoever.”
― Clive Cussler, Atlantis Found

“No oil or water leaks. Don't push the Stutz too hard. We may have rebuilt the engine, but it's over sixty years old. And you can't buy spare Stutz parts at Pep Boys.”
― Clive Cussler, Dragon

“I knew it. We've expired and gone to Disneyland.”
― Clive Cussler, Sahara

“Giordino: I've been wanting to say this, but you look vaguely familiar.
The Kid: Can't imagine why. I don't recall meeting up with you fellas before.
Giordino: Would I offend you if I asked you your real name?
The Kid: Not at all, I don't take offense easily. It's an odd name. Never used it much. It's Clive Cussler.
Giordino: You're right, it is an odd name.”
― Clive Cussler, Sahara

“This guy is the spitting image of Lincoln," Giordino remarked conversationally.
"That IS Abraham Lincoln," came Perlmutter's subdued voice from the doorway. He slowly sank to the deck, his back against the bulkhead, like a whale settling to the seabed. His eyes were locked on the corpse in the rocking chair as if hypnotically fixed.
Pitt stared at Perlmutter with concern and obvious skepticism. "For a renowned historian, you've taken a wrong turn, haven't you?"
Giordino knelt beside Perlmutter and offered him a drink from a water bottle. "The heat must be getting to you, big buddy."
Perlmutter waved away the water. "God oh God, I couldn't bring myself to believe it. But Lincoln's Secretary of War, Edwin McMasters Stanton, DID reveal the truth in his secret papers."
"What truth?" asked Pitt, curious.
He hesitated, and then his voice came almost in a whisper. "Lincoln was not shot by John Wilkes Booth at Ford's Theatre. That is him sitting in that rocking chair.”
― Clive Cussler, Sahara