Turn it off," Ryodan says without even looking at me. "You're distressing Dani. No one distresses Dani but me.

But then we so rarely understand the value of what we possess until it's gone.

He just didn't look like the kind of creep that would messily murder a woman in her hotel room; he looked like the kind of creep that could line her up in the sights of an assassins rifle without a shred of emotion.

Time heals. No, it doesn't. At best, time is the great leveler, sweeping us all into coffins. We find ways to distract ourselves from the pain. Time is neither scalpel nor bandage. It is indifferent. Scar tissue is not a good thing. It is merely the wound's other face.

He's trying not to laugh. I tell him I would have doomed mankind for him, and he's trying not to laugh.

That part of his body was simply uncontrollable, apparently functioning in accordance to a single law of nature: She existed--he got a hard-on.

The single greatest advantage anyone can take into any battle is hope.