She couldn't tell where his pupils ended and the irises began; looking into those eyes was like looking into a well where children had drowned.

Majesty, I beg your forgiveness for the idignity you suffered and offer you the head of our enemy as—" "Put that thing down," I said impatiently. "I can't talk to you when you're shaking his head like a damned maraca.

They weren't moving. Perhaps I was dazzling then with my ineptitude. It had happened before.

Elizabeth Anne Taylor April 25, 1974 - April 25, 2004 Our Sweetheart, Only resting

Can you burn me up with holy water? Poke me to death with your crucifix? Pelt me with communion wafers?

My my Laura Goodman. I must say that is a charming name for a charming young lady." "Eric's old." I broke in. "Really really old." "Er— really?" Laura asked. "Gosh you don't look even out of your thirties." "Tons of face-lifts. He's a surgical addict. I'm trying to get him help." I added defensively when they both gave me strange looks.

There's more than one way for a girl to Google a cat.