Adults always acted like they could fix everything. But they can't. And they know it.

I love you Denver Beck," she whispered. "I have for a long time." Then she stepped back. "Now it's your turn to decide if you love me.

Can you dance?" she asked before she could stop herself. "I can," he said, affronted. "I'm really good with the slow songs.

‎'The demon cried, waving its furry arms above his head like a demented orangutan.

The End is Nigh!" the man shouted. "Is there still time for hot chocolate?" Riley asked. The-End-is-Nigh guy blinked. "Ah, maybe, I don’t know.

Don't start,” he warned. “What?” she said, grinning. “I'm sure all the big, bad trappers have a bun-bun in their houses.

Simon had been all lined up and he’d managed to throw away the best girl he’d ever meet. “What a dumbass,” Beck muttered. “No way I’d have done that.

It was the kiss of a man who had waited years for the moment, and feared that it would never come again.

She knew what he had in mind. He'll propose in Scotland on my birthday. There was no doubt as to what her answer would be.

I can't face losin' ya, Riley. Yer all I got left in this world.” That brutal honesty again. He'd peeled away more armor, and this time he'd exposed his heart.

I learned that the Holy Water better be fresh, that I need practice throwing the spheres, and that someone has to watch my back so asshats don't steal my demons.

Part of the punk attitude was that you should project your music through your whole body... show your personality as much as possible.

Once or twice I've been described as a light comedian. I consider this the most accurate description of my abilities I've ever seen.

There isn't a hole out there [Augusta] that can't be birdied if you just think. But there isn't one that can't be double-bogeyed if you stop thinking.

All was ended now, the hope, and the fear and the sorrow, All the aching of the heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing, All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of patience!

The impatient man is his own enemy; he slams the door on his own progress.

The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs thro' the arched roof in words deceiving.

But the power of science lies in open publication, which, with the rise of the Internet, is no longer constrained by the price of paper.

The mistakes are there, waiting to be made

After the demands of the ego and its greed surrendered, the struggle for fulfillment of personal desires lessens; life takes on a new zest like a breath of fresh air.

Loneliness as a situation can be corrected, but as a state of mind it is an incurable illness.