You are so lucky I'm too tired to murder you right now.

See? My plans don’t all suck. Just most of them.

What's with the disco lights?" Michael said, rolling down the window between the driver's compartment and the back. Eve turned around, and her face brightened. "You like it? I thought it looked really cool. I saw it in a movie, you know, in a limo." "It's cool," Michael said, and smiled at her. She smiled back. "Can't wait to lie here and watch it with you." Claire said, "You don't have to wait; it's working now. Look--Oh. Never mind." She blushed, feeling stupid that she hadn't gotten that one in the first second. Eve winked at her.

And before you ask, no, you're not driving, Myrnin. I remember the last time." "That accident was not my fault." "You were the only one on the road, and the mailbox actually didn't leap out in front of you. No arguments. You sit in the back, too.

His gaze brushed over her, abstract and hungry. "You burn so very brightly, you know" "Yeah," she muttered. "You said.

There is a certain freedom in giving up all hope. One is no longer bound by the cords of dread or fear; you simply move toward the inevitable without thinking on the consequences.

Home," he repeated. "Home is where the heart is. Why don't you leave yours here? I'll take very good care of it.