How am I doing so far?" she asked, forcing a cheerful lightness into her voice. "You're doing very well," Nick's lazy voice mocked. "I'm half convinced that I'm invisible.

Everything wrong I've ever done has always seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

You can't outwit fate by standing on the sidelines placing little sidebets about the outcome of life. either you wade in and risk everything you have to play the game or you don't play at all. and if u don't play u can't win.

What are you looking at?" Jordan demanded finally, watching her. "A dragon." When he looked bewildered she lifted her arm and pointed to the sky in the southeast. "Right there—that cloud—what do you see when you look at it?" "A fat cloud." Alexandra rolled her eyes at him. "What else do you see?" He was quiet for a moment studying the sky. "Five more fat clouds and three thin ones.

Royce Westmoreland stared at him with biting scorn. "I despise hypocrisy, particularly when it is coated with holiness." "May I ask for a specific example?" "Fat priests," Royce replied, "with fat purses, who lecture staving peasants on the dangers of gluttony and the merits of poverty.

You can't condemn me for wanting you, unless you condemn every other man who has." -Clayton Westmoreland

Missing you? I could cheerfully murder you.