Shane it came back to her in a dizzy rush how he'd stopped her on the way into this place, in the faint dawn of light 'i wnt you to promise me one thing. promise me you'll marry me. Not now. Someday.

What was your name again?" "Still Eve." "No, I'm sure it's something else. That doesn't seem right.

It's not your enemies who are likeliest to hurt you. It is, always, those you trust.

You'd be surprised what people will do for money that they wouldn't do for love. Myrnin.

I think so,” she [Claire] said. “Just watch your back, okay?” “Nah, Michael’s got mine.” He [Shane] looked straight into her eyes. “I’ve got yours.

Promise me, Amelie, that you’ll crucify me with silver before you allow me to fall in love.” “I hardly think there’s any chance of that,” Amelie said. "I doubt you have the capacity.

Myrnin to Claire: "If anyone comes to bite you while I'm gone - well, try not to attract attention. Die quietly.

I'm worried he's going to ... do something crazy." "He lives in a hole in the ground, dresses funny, and occasionally eats his assistants," Eve said. "Define crazy.

Morely: You're trying to make me [i]Amelie[/i] Oliver: Goodness, no. You'd look terrible in a skirt

See?" she heard Shane yell at the kitchen. "She doesn't stomp around like a cattle stampede!" "Bite me, Collins! No bacon for you, either!

Shane talking to Claire - "In this whole screwed up town, you're the only thing that's always been right to me," He whispered. "I love you, Claire

You are no greater than the knowledge you acquire, the desires you harbor, and the experiences you cherish.

The things we earnestly chased like they are inevitable

We take unholy risks to prove we are what we cannot be. For instance, I am not even crazy.

We were created to look at one another, weren't we?

I like how pure the expression is in music. You can go straight to the heart of an audience rather than through their brain.

As in a game ov cards, so in the game ov life, we must play what is dealt tew us, and the glory consists, not so mutch in winning, as in playing a poor hand well.

There will never be another Frank Sinatra. I never wanted to be another Frank Sinatra. I only wanted to be another Michael Buble.

My parents put the New Yorker in my crib. I saw Vogue and Vanity Fair around the house before I could read.

We are forever indebted to those who have given their lives that we might be free.