Oh thank you, Jesus." "It's Roarke." He tapped a finger on Eve's head. "You really shouldn't forget your own husband's name.

I want you more than I should," she heard herself say. "I have you less than I want.

So, you’re hitting on Clare the Fair.” “I’m not hitting on her. I’m exploring the possibility of seeing her on social terms.” “He’s hitting on her,” Owen said around a mouthful of chips. “You’ve still got that thing you had for her back in high school. Are you still writing bad song lyrics about heartbreak?” “Suck me. And they weren’t that bad.” “Yeah, they were,” Ryder disagreed. “But at least now we don’t have to listen to you playing your keyboard and howling them down the hall.

My fondest wish, I suppose, would be to die at the keyboard right after finishing a book, perhaps with a little time off to have some really good sex. It's not, 'Oh, thank God, this is book No. 250. I can die now.'

Peabody, you never cease to amaze me." "One day I'll tell you about my granny and her five lovers." "Five lovers isn't abnormal for a woman's lifetime." "Not in her lifetime; last month. All at the same time." Peabody glanced up, deadpan. "She's ninety-eight. I hope to take after her.

I wonder if you can understand, I never really knew what it was to want, until you.

Everything I know, I learned from dogs.