Life is like a moustache. It can be wonderful or terrible. But it always tickles.

Somethings in life are out of your control. you can make it a party or a tragedy. Or, you could refuse to take the next step. You could refuse to take what you wanted most because you're afraid some day you might lose it.

I don't like the idea of you shivering unless I cause it. Stay warm." ----Roarke, Naked In Death

But Roarke doesn't feel weird about it. He's full of it, the love, I mean. And when he loves me, things that never worked in me did - do. It was easier when they didn't work, but it's better when they do. You know?

Eve: "She had big plans for me. Kind of a pet, I imagine. Like William. Her little trained dog. And with you dead, she figured I'd inherit all your goodies. You're not going to do that to me are you?" Roarke: "What, die?" Eve: "Leave me all this stuff." Roarke: "Only you would be annoyed by that.

Oh, God. God, isn't that perfect? He's Dad. He's Dad with a layer of nerd. Solid, steady, chipping away so patiently, you don't even know you've had your shields hacked down until you're defenseless. It's the type." "You're not in love with a type, you're in love with a man," Penny corrected. "Or you're not.

You don't find time to write. You make time. It's my job.