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

You couldn't hurt a fly." Actually I was pretty good at pinging flies right out of the air, but I tried to look appropriately harmless.

I’m never wrong? Who besides Republican presidents and evil masterminds can say that with a straight face?

Shrugging out of the damaged shirt, Jake said roughly, “I still dream about you.” “I have nightmares about you.” I dragged my T-shirt over my head, threw it aside.

Then, like a born and bred asshole, he added to the sheriff, "He writes murder mysteries.

Peter is ... adjusting. He's back in school, and he's doing quite well. I wish you could find it in your heart to forgive him." "I've got this funny resentful streak about people who try to kill me.

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.