I know that asshole you were with in college --” “Can we leave that asshole out of it?” Please, gentlemen, one asshole at a time.

Have I ever told you, you look like Monty Clift? he inquired in a deep, seductive voice. Before or after the accident?

He scooped up Victoria practically before she hit the ground, well within the five-second rule. If she'd been a potato chip, he could have still eaten her. Not something I particularly wanted to contemplate.

The battle rages eternal, though the race, religion, gender or sexual orientation of those discriminated against changes regularly. Maybe man’s need for a scapegoat is genetically programmed into him.

I thought of the words of the Renaissance philosopher Michel de Montaigne. "If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I.

I gave a helpless laugh. “Damned if I know. I think…we seem to have reached impasse. I feel betrayed by your friendship with Verlane. I realize that’s not logical. I realize that if I’d made the mistakes Verlane has made, I’d want my friends to stand by me, hope that someone would help me when the time came. I just…” “What?” I met his eyes. “I just need to come first for someone, Guy.

When you live with a potentially life-threatening condition you get used to the thought of dying. You accept it, you push on. The thing that scared me was the picture of dying slowly and painfully, the loss of independence and identity to illness.