1960's Rawhide Kid #17 (by Stan Lee, Jack Kirby and Dick Ayers) was the first issue of a revival of an Atlas series from a few years earlier, reworking the main character's origin. It involves his uncle Ben being murdered. Lee really did like certain names and plots.

Bill Mantlo turns on the purple dialogue for (purple) Galactus in ROM #27, 1982. (Or: how to make a page more exciting when Sal Buscema and Joe Sinnott have drawn something uncharacteristically dull.)

So: you know how I was saying recently that Simonson's Thor didn't try to do things à la Lee & Kirby much? The team of Tom DeFalco, Ron Frenz and Brett Breeding, who took over the book immediately after him, tended to stick VERY closely to the Lee/Kirby template--DeFalco's dialogue in this panel from #390 is straight out of that playbook.

She has been restless a while now. It was likely the hungry beast in her blood, who never quite stopped kicking or digging holes to climb out of. It bakes in the Arizona heat, licking the corner of its mouth for water and for the longest times she can ignore it. At least until the sense of stagnancy feels more like desert quicksand, and instinct compels her to move on. Emily had settled well in school, soon she would start kindergarten and stability would be a lot more crucial to her psychosocial development. Billy and Ellory knew it was only a matter of time before they would have to finally settle, and they both knew there-in would be one of them before the other. It didn't matter the flip of a coin, Emily always came first. So maybe here? With Lee in the picture maybe it was the right time, she thinks - taking a long drag of her cigarette. Behind her, there is the loud rage of a small bar and though Lee wasn't all that much for time outside he would often give into her need to be a little wild, no matter what trouble that got him in. Billy had once been intimidated by his shyness, but with her secret revealed there had been a switch flipped. She wonders if its paternal instinct that's done it, maybe emphasized by his pacing animal, because every once in a while when she gets a little reckless he started to follow. If only to keep her safe. "Hey baby," From the corner of her eye she makes out the slithering silhouette of an approaching man. He ambles closer smelling like beer, and Billy winces a little at his imposing. Taking a half step back as she slides her cigarette back up to her mouth, breathes in heavy.  "You out here all alone?" She blows smoke into his face, then puts her cigarette out on his jacket. Call her outlandish bravery a byproduct of the werewolf who hovers inside. Part of Billy's coy was in the ability to pick fights and start fires, and the exhilaration of watching Lee put them out. She was as fascinated with his newfound side as maybe he was -- and couldn't help but push him a little. Be a little bad where it mattered the least. "Want to see how alone I am?" She's got no reason to be a bitch besides the whiskey on her breath, and the love drunk feeling in her heart. "You fuckin' bitch." The dude hisses, and makes a show of getting closer to her face, turning a little red, and clenching his fist. "Real lucky I don't hit women. Fuck you." How much will she have to aggravate this stranger before he comes to her rescue? She pushes some more. "Well bless your heart." It's got all the sarcasm of her accent in it's lilts. "Thinkin' you could. " His face hardens, and he's inches from her now, making a little bit of a scene as some people warily watch, unwilling to intervene. Not Lee. Who she knows notices because she can almost feel the palpable tension rising, to where if she struck a match the whole damn place might burn down because all of a sudden, Lee is there - setting her aside gently while he glides in between. He had been so protective lately.... Billy loves it. "Let me guess. This crude little bitch is yours."Not the smartest thing the guy could have said first, she thinks. As she watches her ...( What were they? Lovers? In a relationship? Soulmates? ) beau's cheeks turn red, and feels him tense against where they are touching. A palm rising to rest against his lower back. Both a silent encouragement and reassurance. It'd only been since Lee began to follow her around more that Billy had stopped carrying a Beretta. Now he is her silver bullet. Sparing her a glance that's half concerned half pissed off, she flashes him a smile back that's both mischievous and a little saucy. There are benefits to her provocations. But they tend to come ah, later. "You okay?" He says in a low tone meant only for her, a little keen to avoid a fight. But the other man is a riled up, and maybe drunk. "You better learn to keep that bitch on a leash." (You have NO idea darlin'. she thinks.) Then goes to companion "No" . Doesn't feel bad for the little white lie -- nothing got her going like a brawl. And she wouldn't have picked it if she wasn't confident in her contender. No is all it takes. All it takes before Lee's eyes flash something darker, and he lashes out, pushing the stranger backwards who stumbles then grows infuriated. Billy takes a step back, grinning when she dabs her tongue along the rim of lips and wets them in anticipation. She's more coyote in that moment, all pointed ears and animal eyes. Hungry for a claim in violence. Hypermasculinity always got her going a little. Circling partly like a damn shark as the stranger leaps forward to attempt a blow. Lee has been around the rodeo enough to spot it coming. And he blocks and parries with a fist to the rib. From there things get a lot more rough and tumble - and it's not until she can see security parting the crowd that the blonde finally would draw the blows to a halt. "Sweetheart," she says with mild warning in her tone then abruptly watches him knock out the dude with a slug to the jaw. "Oh" she feels her body heating up as he directs his eyes to her and goes, (all bruised knuckles and a bloodied nose) "What am I going to do with you, Billy?" And she laughs,                             "Anything."

I see what you did there, Maker. From 2017's Ultimates^2 #9, by Al Ewing and Travel Foreman.

One thing I find fascinating (and wonderful) about Walter Simonson's Thor is that it owes very, very little, stylistically, to the series' Lee/Kirby era. This page from 1987's Thor #380 (by Simonson and Sal Buscema) is the grand exception: that is a total Jack Kirby pose we're seeing Thor in, and the jagged stripe of the reflection under his eye is a loud "we're doing Kirby now" signal. The dialogue, as well, follows the rhythms and tone of the language that Lee would use for a full-page Kirby image. (The narration of most of the issue is more in the vein of Old English poetry--Simonson's really good at making his language suggest particular sources of inspiration without aping them outright.)

A strong candidate for the Most Stan Lee Line of Dialogue of All Time. (It's ridiculous, but it's also great, and nobody else could have written it.) From Silver Surfer #3, 1968; art by John Buscema and Joe Sinnott.

Lee, on Marketr