I cannot do it. I cannot bear it. I cannot go back to what I was here. I cannot stand at her side and watch another take her. I am not that strong or that good.

My boyfriends are all more romantic than I am, and so are my lovers.

Pity is an emotion that can get you killed. The only thing more dangerous is blind hate, and maybe love.

That disapproving look was back in her eyes. Her teacher face. The one that could make you squirm from ten paces, even if you were innocent. And I hadn't been innocent for years.

I sipped my own coffee, heavy on the sugar and cream, trying to make up for the late work the night before. Caffeine and sugar, the two basic food groups.

I'd made sure I knew his name. You shouldn't ask people to die for you if you don't at least know their name.

That was the problem with loving people: it made you weak. It made you need them. It made the thought of not having them the worst thing in the world.