When you were too young and naïve to see the risks, I incurred your wrath to protect you. Scream at me for it if you must. Thank me for it when you finally grow up.

You can’t give somebody faith. They either got it or they don’t.

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.

Barrons knows virtually everything about me. I wouldn’t be surprised if somewhere he has a little file that encompasses my entire life to date, with neatly mounted, acerbically captioned photos—see Mac sunbathe, see Mac paint her nails, see Mac almost die.

My heart has jet lag.

Lies are horny little buggers, they breed like rabbits and bound around just as insanely and then you have to try to keep track of them.

Oh, please," I rolled my eyes, "You're a leftie, Barrons." "Touche, Ms. Lane," he murmured.