I've always considered myself a feminist, which is such a tough word for people. Some people immediately assume that you're angry or you hate men, which is obviously not true.

I figured I couldn't love you as much as I do, without you feeling something for me too.

He's a fascinating gentleman. Old-school. I tried to talk him into attending one of my services, but he said he wasn't finished sinning yet, and he'd let me know when he was.

Pretend you're mine," he urged, his arms closing around her. "Just for a minute. Pretend there's never been anyone but me, that I'm the one you're promised to. Do it for me....I'll never ask again.

I spent most of my youth hauling sides of beef and pork to my father's shop. Carrying you is far more enjoyable." "How sweet," Annabelle mumbled sickly, her eyes closed. "Every woman dreams of being told that she's preferable to a dead cow.

The guy who broke up with me... he was exactly like you, in the beginning. Charming, and nice. They're all like you in the beginning. But I always end up like this. And I can't do it anymore.

There are some experiences in life they haven't invented the right words for.