I hope that's true, because I figured out why I'd never finished it, what I was waiting for. I was waiting for you, Clare. For them. For us. I want to finish it up for you, for them, for us.

My apartment's only about a block away." "Isn't that handy." "Fate," he countered as he took a seat on the sofa and made himself at home. "Fantasic, isn't it?" "One day very soon, I'm going to tell you what you can do with that fate of yours.

I hate patience. Slows everything down.

I feel something for you, some dangerous thing, some volatile thing.

One of my greatest pleasures is falling into a story someone else has written.

People in hell want snowcones.

We make our own choices and we're each responsible for them. Blame and credit belong to the individual. You haven't the right to claim either from someone else.