Could I tell them I was sorry their loved one was dead, when he’d tried to kill me? There was no rule of etiquette for this; even my grandmother would have been stymied.

I am here," Eric said. "And I am here." I was a little amused at Eric's phone answering technique. "Sookie, my little bullet-sucker," he said, sounding fond and warm. "Eric, my big bullshitter.

It's hard not to respond when a master of the art of kissing is laying one on you.

A year ago,' I said, 'you wouldn’t have asked this of me.' 'A year ago,' he answered, 'you wouldn’t have hesitated to drink.' I crossed to the desk and tossed it down.

Men! Dead or alive, they could be exactly the same.

You'll have to ask Bill that, Sookie. And this is the only reason we're going? You're not cleverly using this as an excuse to make out with me?" "I'm not that clever, Eric." "I think you deceive yourself, Sookie," Eric said with a brilliant smile.

I often cried when I got angry; I hated that. Crying just made you look weak, no matter what triggered it.