Love and hate. Same passion. Same impulse

Hunting humans for sport? Eating them?" the bitterness in his voice cut through me. "Yeah, I caught that part." "That doesn't have anything to do with you? He lifted his eyes, gaze shuttered. "No?" "Not unless being a werewolf transforms you into a wolf AND a redneck moron.

Uh-uh" Clay drawled above me, "Elena's played with you long enough, Its my turn

Still sitting, he reached out and pulled me toward him. We stayed there, looking at each other, his hand still wrapped in my shirt hem, my heart hammering so hard I was sure he could hear it. when I inched closer, not wanting to intrude, he tugged me in front of him and I stumbled, half falling onto his lap. I tried to scramble up, cheeks burning, but he pulled me down onto his knee, one army going around my waist, tentative, as if to say Is this okay? It was, even if my blood pounded in my ears so hard I couldn't think.

There are just as many bitches out there as bastards. Equal opportunity asshole-ism.

I envied it; not the idea of having so much money that you could throw it away, but the thought of growing up in a world where someone cared so much about your happiness and so little about what you accomplished in life.

Sometimes humans hit on a moment of profundity more complete than their dim minds could comprehend, and they took that nugget of truth and dumped it in the refuse for the bards and the poets to find, and mangle into yodeling paeans of love.