That scent she threw off was not anything by Chanel. Unless they’d recently added a Tragedy line.

That's the problem with white horses. You have to pay for them yourself or you'll always be using someone else's reins.

Times have changed and so have heroes and heroines, but the core of what makes readers happy has remained the same: Does the material touch you, resonant with you, stick with you? Do you feel yourself in the pages, see yourself walking in another person's shoes, hear the voices as they speak? Are you in love with the way they are in love?

In an earlier life, were you a pair of brakes?" "Try a brick wall.

The one good thing about the Angels was they always colored within the lines. They had to. Suckers.

Falling into ruin was a bit like falling in love: Both descents stripped you bare and left you as you were at your core. And both endings are equally painful.

You're a good Irishman, right?" When Butch nodded, V said, "Irish, Irish… let me think. Yeah…" Vishous's eyes sobered, and in a voice that cracked, he said, "May the road rise to meet you. May the wind always be at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and the rains fall soft upon your fields. And… my dearest friend… until we meet again may the Lord hold you in the palm of His hand.