My ex—may he soon discover tiny worms have invaded his body and are slowly eating him alive—once told me God made men so perfect because He'd wanted to make up for the inadequacies of women.

He was royalty. So what? Everyone had a flaw.

Anya jumped in front of the man, acting as his shield. “Now, Sabin. He didn’t mean any harm. He’s borderline stupid. You know that.

That's because I'm made of awesome." "And dipped in awesome." "And sprinkled with awesome." "Gods, I love the taste of awesome.

Girl, he wants to dip you in Frosted Flakes and have you for breakfast. That's his favorite cereal, by the way." I...had no words for that.

I love this quote when Valerian the King of the Nymphs says to his mate Shaye; "I am Valerian, leader of the nymphs. You may call me Oh God, that is what the other surface dwellers have preferred to call me".

You are such a chick." I widened my eyes in mock surprise. "No way. Are you sure?" Sighing again, he rubbed at the tattoos on his wrist. "Mackenzie was right. You aren't slayer material." Before he had time to register my intentions, I threw a punch. My sore, swollen knuckles slammed into his cheekbone, thrusting his head to the side. Pain shot up my arm, but I bit my tongue to stop a moan. "You were saying?" He popped his jaw, rubbed at the reddening skin-and slowly grinned. "Okay, so now I understand why Cole likes you. You're worse than Kat.