Chicken, yeah, that's me. I'd rather fight an old rogue-vamp in my underwear, with my bare hands, than deal with relationship problems.

Walk softly and carry a big stick. Or stomp loudly and carry enough firepower to start a small war. Whatever worked

I figured even the most jaded and cynical inhabitant might report a bloody girl in a party dress carrying a severed head by its hair.

But nothing in life was set in stone and nothing in life is promised us. Not happiness, not joy, not love. Everything was variable and mutable and inconstant.

Really sucked the red off of all my candy.

It looked to me like a vamp version of a pissing contest. Men will be boys.

You don't have to shout from the mountaintops. Sometimes power comes in a soft, calm, compassionate way, like a quiet warrior.