One of them hissed-not the hiss of a cat, a long, steady tone-more like the hiss of air escaping the rubber raft that is all that lies between you and a dark sea full of sharks, the hiss of your life leaking out at the seams.

I like a girl with a substantial bottom,' said Renoir, drawing in the air the size bottom he preferred.

She laughed. My favorite music.

He has the attention span of a hummingbird.

It's like time travel only, you know, slower.

You think you know how this story is going to end, but you don't.

Why understand when you can believe?