Could you just call me Pigeon?” he asked the teacher when she read his name. “Does your mother call you Pigeon?” “No.” “Then to me you are Paul.” ... “Nathan Sutter,” the teacher read. “My mother never calls me Nathan.” “Is it Nate?” “She calls me Honeylips.

Sometimes the best offense was avoiding self-destruction.

Hello, cell. How are you? Still dank and dirty? Me? I've taken up a new habit: talking to my cell. It's like talking to myself but slightly more pathetic.

It was one thing to snuggle a little when the world seemed about to end, and quite another to explain to her parents that she wanted to date an ancient magical horse.

One eye is open to all truth, the other closed to all deception.

We humans are conflicted beings. Our beliefs don't always harmonize with our instincts, and our behavior doesn't always reflect our beliefs. ... We wage war between the person we are and the person we hope to become.

I was vanquished by a deer!' A giant magical flying deer with fangs,' Seth said, parroting a description Gavin had shared earlier. That sounds a little better,' Warren conceded. 'Seth is in charge of my tombstone.