I scowled defensively. "My conversations don't usually include the subject of erections." "Too bad," he said. "All the best conversations do.

I'm not the marrying kind -" St. Vincent snorted. "No man is. Marriage is a female invention.

Only you could love such a vile, selfish peacock, Evie.

I'm one of those people who was meant to have a very ordinary life. I have no special talent, no great beauty, nothing that distinguishes me from a hundred, thousand other girls. But I can't go through an entire lifetime without at least one night of magic.

I've never wanted to be loved. And God Knows no one's done it yet.

What are you going to call the place?" "I haven't decided yet. Carrington wants to call it Clippety-Do-Da or Hairway to Heaven . . . but I told her we have to be a little bit classier." "Julius Scissors," I suggested. "Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow," Jack joined in. Liberty covered her ears. "I'll go out of business in the first week.

I've never known anyone more ill equipped for happiness. He wouldn't know what to do with it.