She wanted to feel him pound away her fears, a hammer to smash through all her guilt and pain and emptiness.

Everything good in there, T? Niko quipped. You need backup or anything? Bag of marshmallows to roast over that little campfire you just started?

I want to kiss you again, Tess.” “Why?” He chuckled, low under his breath. “Why? Because you’re beautiful, and because I want you. And I think you want me too.

I love you so much … I don’t want to live a single moment without you at my side.

Female, I give you fair warning: you are playing with fire" - Tegan to Elise (Midnight Awakening

I’m ready when you are, Lucan.” “Okay,” he said, shaking his head in defeat. “Let’s go get our boy.

Holy Moses on a pogo stick!!

I’m not going to leave you here to bleed my friend dry.” “If that had been my intent, they’d already be dead on the floor.

I’ll admit it to you now, and to anyone, anytime. I need you, Elise. I love you. You are mine. My woman, my mate, my beloved. My everything.

I don’t want to feel anything for you, Dante” “God, Tess. I don’t want to feel anything for you either.

Looking for me, Angel?

Truth is a remarkable thing. We cannot miss knowing some of it. But we cannot know it entirely.

The violence in the Bible is appalling.

Peace is a fulltime job. It's protecting civilians, overseeing elections, and disarming ex-combatants. Peace, like war, must be waged.

As a kid I collected stamps, pebbles on the beach, anything. I liked to have at least 10 of something.

It just goes to show, if you try to ruin someone's life, it only gets better. You just don't get to be a part of it.

Harmless and innocent until they're taught to be violent and militant.

You can watch 'Dawn of the Dead' and still sleep at night. Try that with 'The Day After'.

What Paris has done right is to make it awful to get around by car and awfully easy to get around by public transportation or by bike.

Both tolerance and respect are empty virtues until we actually understand whatever it is we are supposed to be tolerating or respecting.

Who would be so mocked with glory, or to live But in a dream of friendship, To have his pomp and all what state compounds But only painted, like his varnished friends?