I started down but Sam caught my arm and knelt down himself to look. "For crying out loud," he said. "It's a racoon." "Poor thing," I said. "It could be a rabid baby-killer," Cole told me primly. "Shut up," Sam said pleasantly.

Fro and to in my dreams to you To the haunting tune of the harp For the price I paid when you died that day I paid that day with my heart Fro and to in my dreams to you With the breaking of my heart Ne'er more again will I sing this song Ne'er more will I hear the harp.

It's like thinking you're going to heaven, but when you get there it turns out to be Cleveland.

I always listen to you. Except when I don't.

I fell asleep to the scent of my wolf. Pine needles, cold rain, earthy perfume, coarse bristles on my face.

All of them are men, not a girl amongst them unless you count Tommy Falk because his lips are so pretty.

Get some money, buy a red coffeepot, move out. Find a new place to plug it in.