He looked around when he heard a window-rattling roar. "Earthquake? Volcano? Nuclear war?" "Beaver," Peter told him. "I don't care if it is Alaska, you don't have beavers big enough to sound like that.

There is no disgrace in staying behind, not when it's the right thing.

Do you know how many ways love can hit you? So it makes you happy, or miserable? It makes you sick in the belly or hurt in the heart. It makes everything brighter and sharper, or it blurs all the edges. It makes you feel like a king or a fool. Every way love can hit you, it's hit me when it comes to you.

And you're not going to tell me she didn't make a move on you. At least test the waters." "The waters," he said, "were not receptive." "If they had been, I'd have drowned her in them already.

Good fiction creates its own reality.

Look, if some guy dressed in his mother's clothes breaks in, fight him off until I get my pants back on.

I think sometimes fate cuts you a break. Like it says, okay, you've had enough of that crap, so it's time you fell into something nice. See what you make out of it.