I'd watch your mouth", he said, tilting his head as he looked at my ID."The last lunker who laughed at her picture spent the night in the emergency room with a drink umbrella jammed up his nose".

And then there are the rare ones who know love, who understand it. Who freely give of themselves, demanding only a return of that love,that trust.

I'll wait for you under the bluebells. I'll be there always.

Actually, I am kind of busy right now,” I drawled as I settled back into the chair and closed my eyes. “You have to make melanin while the sun shines.

I told you, computers are like women. If you shout at them or ask them to do too many things at once, they shut down and you won't even get a sniff" pg. 4

Breaking rules isn't bad when what you're doing is more important than the rule itself

I’ve got your back. Nothing alive will ever hurt you if I have breath in me. And nothing dead will hurt you if I don’t.” (Kisten)

Maybe he thinks he can rescue me? No one is that stupid.

Sure, he had a wife and fifty-four kids, but he looked like a college freshman. A yummy college freshman majoring in Oh-my-god-I-gotta-get-me-some-of-that.

Endings are not always bad. Most times they're just beginnings in disguise.

Sure, it was nice now, but eventually there would be running and screaming and blood on the floor.

Believing the phenomenon of karma is placing your destiny in the hands of the devil.

Travel brings power and love back into your life.

Feelings are self-justifying, with a set of perceptions and "proofs" all their own.

My optimism for life carried through my work.

There doesn't seem to be a lot of middle ground with me.

Stillness is a harder concept for me than ecstasy, but I can imagine it best when I am fully present and paying strict attention to a place I am moving through.

Only during the action is the idea of matter influenced.

Sometimes, when I clean a kill, I feed Buttercup the entrails. He has stopped hissing at me. Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love.

however many resolutions one makes, one's pen, like water, always finds its own level, and one can't write in any way other than one's own.

I must to the barber's, monsieur, for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face.