Gah, some chicks should be shot. Put out of everyone else's reproduction pool.

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

Although love could grow in times of peace, it tempered in battle. Daddy told me once - when I'd said something about how perfect his relationship with Mom was - that I should have seen the first five years of their marriage, that they'd fought like hellions, crashed into each other like two giant stones. That eventually they'd eroded each other into the perfect fit, become a single wall, nestled into each other's curves and hollows, her strengths chinking his weaknesses, her weaknesses reinforced by his strengths.

You can't save people from themselves. You can only try to wake them up.

My world we humans we’re just pawns on an immortal chessboard.

If V’lane were a signpost, it would read Abandon All Personal Will, Ye Who Tread Here.

He is my vulnerability