Why is it that all cars are women? Because they're fussy and demanding.
People who know other people’s secrets can’t afford to do things that impair their ability to control their mouths.
Identity was partly heritage, partly upbringing, but mostly the choices you make in life. ~ Bran
We are none of us perfect, and...we learn to take these imperfections and make them only a small part of who we are
Even after all this time, I keep forgetting that heroes can be found in unlikely places and persons -- like mechanics who can turn into coyotes.
Some truths are truths, no matter who says them.
I'm not threatening to kill myself. But you need to know this about me because—if you want to be my mate—I won't be like Leo. I won't let you sleep around with anyone else. I won't be forced either. I've had enough. If that makes me a dog in the manger, so be it. But if I am yours, then you damned well are going to be mine." - Anna to Charles
Mercy," he said,"in a fair fight between near equals, I'll back you every time. It's the demons, vampires, and river devils I worry about, and I'm working on that.
You forgot the ‘my precious,’” Anna said dryly. “If you want to act like a freaking nutcase, you have to do it right.
The main thing to remember is that making love is at onces the silliest and the most sacred act humans can perform.
Much awkwardness ensued.
Women are the bloodthirsty sex," said Ric sadly. "We get the reputation, but it is only because the women stand behind us, and say, Kill it. Squish it.
He'd woken up after flying from Boston to Montana to find his da cooking breakfast for them: sausage and pancakes shaped like deer. It wasn't just any deer, either - they looked like Bambi from the disney cartoon. Charles didn't want to know how his father had managed that
Why is it that all cars are women?" he asked. "Because they're fussy and demanding," answered Zee. "Because if they were men, they'd sit around and complain instead of getting the job done," I told him.
I don't like it when I outweigh my men.
She wondered that hope was so much harder then despair.
It's easier to dismiss ghosts in the daylight.
Cheeses crusty, got all musty, got damp on the stone of a peach,” I agreed. He looked blank, so I repeated it with proper emphasis. “ ChEEZ-zes crusty. Got Al -musty. Got DAMp on the StoneofapeaCH.
Zee said, grumpily, “Liebling, this is not a good idea.” “Zee,” I told him, “I am completely out of good ideas and am doing my best with the bad ones I have left.
I was in the middle of a dream about garbage cans and frogs - don't ask, and I won't tell.
Some people are boys longer than others.
C’est moi, c’est moi,’tis I,' I told him. It seemed appropriately melodramatic, though I didn’t know if he’d catch the reference. I shouldn’t have worried. Unexpectedly, he laughed. “Trust you to quote Lancelot rather than Guinevere.
Truth is without flourishes or manners and runs with a logic all its own.
I am not attempting to preserve culture, or record actual events or stories. Instead I bow my head in gratitude to those storytellers who have gone before and paved a way for me play in their stomping grounds. Doubtless those who want to be offended, will - allowing me to make them happy, too, which pleases me as much as it pleases them.
I suppose we must work on being gracious and grateful until we can do for ourselves. Someday the wheel of fate will put us in a position to be of use to them, and we will remember how much easier it is to give help than it is to accept it.
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