Gorgeous,” he murmured. She chuckled. “Think you’l say that in five months or so? When I waddle like a duck and you have to tie my shoes for me?” “I’l say it then and forever.
I think you must be some kind of a freak. Either that or you’re trying to convert me to your secret horse religion.” “Darn, you got me,” she says theatrically. “You thwarted my evil plan.
that old Mrs. Bishop was lacking in the qualities that make a good mother. And saying it that way makes her sound a good deal better than she really was.
Without thinking, he reached for her hand. Tucked it against her chest, feeling that was where it should be. Perry's heart slammed against his ribs. She had to feel it.
He’s not yet realized that by giving away nothing but barefaced lies he’s come to wither and rot inside. But she’s still looking for him into the void of his cold heart.
I've no idea when I'm going to wear it, the girl replied calmly. I only knew that I had to have it. Once I tried it on, well... She shrugged. The dress claimed me.
...and it's ridiculous that anyone would praise a child for standing with arms spread out on a wooden cross, as if she were Jesus's dead sister wearing a checkerboard tablecloth.
Listen, I'm going to go lock myself in the coat closet, okay? Don't disturb me if you can help it?" She frowned at me. "Telepathy stuff," I said. "It may not work, but I've got to try.
She had the wild look of someone who hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours, with purplish semicircles underneath both her eyes. Being eighteen was like being made out of rubber and cocaine.
She would consider each day a miracle - which indeed it is, when you consider the number of unexpected things that could happen in each second of our fragile existences.
It's hard to fuck your girlfriend when she's fucked up and you're not. It's harder than the skee-ball they used to have at the Plaza arcade, all that agony over a fuzzy piece.
Woman's power lies in man's passion, and she knows how to use it, if man doesn't understand himself. He has only one choice: to be the tyrant over or the slave of woman.
It’s not a war. It’s an annihilation,” he’d mumbled low for her ears only. She’d been unable to respond, only focusing on her own breath and marveling that she in fact was still breathing.
Bernier turned in her chair, smiled, and shook their hands. Dana’s heart skipped a beat as she stood inches away from one of New York’s most glamorous and adored women.
Take a few minutes." "No. He's already had more of my time than he was entitled to." Yes, he thought as she walked out of his office. Very much like her grandmother.
The happily ever after thing. It's great when she marries the prince or whatever and they say that. But they just don't show the part where there's a revolution and they drag her to the guillotine.
She can go places we cannot, associate with people we cannot, understand things about society types and women that we never can. (Why Mr. Burke hires Violet Strange.)
Her weight settled on her back foot as she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him, now legitimately baffled. “How delusional are you, aliens in your head notwithstanding?
He did not have time to wallow, to give a moment’s thought to what may have happened to her or whether she was alive. Turn into the punch, grab hold of the gun, leap into the arena. Attack. He had to move. Now.
You aren’t a vampire.” Silver's voice mirrored his shock. She repeated the phrase with a huge smile on her face. “You aren’t a vampire!” “They don’t call me Jackpot for nothing,” he joked.
Her only thought was of getting away, as if she were carrying a live grenade from inside the house, so that when it exploded, it would destroy just herself.
