I'll call you," Manny said. "You do that, my man. You frickin' do that." -Manny to V

You know, you sound like birds when you do that chuckle thing. It's nice. Over to the left, Vishous put his head in his hands.

When you were the son of evil, there was little you couldn't do, own, or kill, and yet her mortal self was an elusive trophy he could touch, but not put on his shelf. This made her rare. This made her precious. This made him...love her.

Jane: Focus is important. V: Only if you're a microscope.

What are the rules," The cop said. "There are none." Vishous spread his stance and braced himself. "Do whatever you want...but you have to break me. You've got to tear me apart.

It was right then and there that she'd realized there was no quota on misery for people, no quantifiable threshold that once reached, got you miraculously taken out of the distress pool.

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?