Every night in my dreams, a man appeared from the darkest recesses of my mind, as if he'd been waiting for me to fall asleep. His mouth, full, masculine, would sear my flesh. His tongue, like flames across my skin, would send tiny sparks quaking through my body. Then he would dip south, and the heavens would open and a chorus singing hallelujah would ring out in perfect harmony.

.. an emergency stash of Thin Mints. Frickin' Girl Scouts. Those things were way to addictive. They had to be laced with crack." Charlie Davidson Fourth Grave Beneath my Feet

It would be a miracle to solve this case. Luckily, I believed in miracles. No, wait, that was testicles. I believed in testicles.

A guy in an SUV tried to kill me.” “That’s strange.” “Why?” “Because the guy I hired doesn’t drive an SUV.” “That is strange.

Have they even seen the Winchester boys? Sammy and Dean's existence proves there is a god and she is a woman.

It isn’t the fall that will kill you, but the sudden stop.

He bombarded me with words, of all things, apparently clueless to the fact that the predawn hours rendered me incapable of coherent thought.