I love you, i love your smile your snarl your grin, your face when your sleeping.I love your hair streaming behind you as we fly, with the sunlight making it shine, if it doesn't have too much mud or blood in it, I love seeing your wings spreading out, white and brown and tan and speckled, and the tiny downy feathers right at the top of your shoulders. I love your eyes, whether they're cold or calculating or suspicious or laughing or warm, like when you look at me.

If you love something let it go.. if it comes back its yours

A lot of times you get people writing wonderful sentences and paragraphs, and they fall in love with their prose style, but the stories really aren't that terrific.

Fang (sarcasticaly): Go pick out a tree and I'll carve our initials in it. Max: (screams and goes in the bathroom)

"I feel like, like pudding," Iggy groaned. "Pudding with nerve endings. Pudding in great pain."

I tried to shake some water off. "I got a message from Angel,"i said, scanning the tunnel."She says there's massive danger down here,something too big for us to fix or deal with." "So of course you immediately came down.

Why do things this beautiful make me want to cry?" I asked Michael as I leaned into him. It was an unguarded question, one I'd never have asked of Hugh. "I don't know," said Michael. "Maybe beauty, true beauty, is so overwhelming, it goes straight to our hearts. Maybe it makes us feel emotions that are locked away inside.