You're up to something," I said. He turned, eyes wide, long fingers pressed to his heart. "Moi?" "Yeah, you.

More sex. We must have more sex.

To just let go, and not pick everything to death. To just let go and enjoy what you had. To just let go and not make everybody around you miserable with your own internal dialogue. To just let go and be happy. So simple. So difficult. So terrifying.

There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.

I feel that if you are blessed, or lucky enough, to be doing well, you should help others.

He had this old southern idea of what a lady should be. A lady should not carry a gun and spend most of her time covered in blood and corpses. I had two words for that attitude. Yeah, those are the words.

murder takes presedence over watching my boyfriend strip" -ID, Anita to Nathaniel