He handed her her cap and sunglasses, then put on his own while she frowned at them. “What is this?” “A disguise.” He grinned at her. “Dobie wants you to wear them. Let’s give him a break, or he might order fake mustaches and clown noses off the Internet.” She rolled her eyes, but put them on. “And what, this makes us look like twins? Where are your tits?” “You’re wearing them, and may I say they look spectacular on you.”' - Chasing Fire

I don't think I am a traditional romantic who thinks about candlelight dinners and wonders if my husband is going to bring me flowers, though I'm delighted if he does. I'm more practical-minded. I find it incredibly romantic that my husband does the dishes.

Life is never as long as we want it to be, and wasted time can never be recovered.

She was singed, bleeding, bruised, and furiously alive.

Eve, we're going to be married in a few days." The jittering started again, big time. "Yeah." "If he keeps looking at you like that, I'm going to have to hurt him.

She walked with a ghost of herself, one full of potential and possibility. One who was fearless. Where had that girl gone?

Love makes saints or sinners out of men.