Coffe is the perfume of morning.

As I climbed up into the high old bed, the large fly in my personal ointment did the same. Had I actually told him he could get in bed with me? Well, I decided, as I wriggled down under the soft old sheets and the blanket and the comforter, if Eric had designs on me, I was just too tired to care. "Woman?" "Hmmm?" "What's your name?" "Sookie. Sookie Stackhouse." "Thank you, Sookie." "Welcome, Eric.

Then was ashamed of myself. I should be happy for what I'd been given. I hoped God hadn't noticed my lapse in appreciation.

I love you,” Bill said helplessly, as if he wished those magic words would heal me. But he knew they wouldn’t. “That’s what you all keep saying,” I answered. “But it doesn’t seem to get me any happier.

The god entered some women so completely that they became immortal, or very close to it. Bacchus was the god of the grape, of course, so bars are very interesting to maenads. In fact, so interesting that they don't like other creatures of darkness becoming involved. Maenads consider that the violence sparked by the consumption of alcohol belongs to them; that's what they feed off, now that no one formally worships their god. And they are attracted to pride.

The night swelled with magic; not the beneficent kind of love-magic that sweeps couples away, but the kind of magic that rips and tears, the enchantment that creeps out of the woods and pounces.

I felt like a car that had only been operated by one driver… a car its new prospective buyer was determined to take to the Daytona 500.