Paul?” I said. My voice shook a little. “It’s Jo.” Silence. I couldn’t tell what was happening on the other end. Then, very quietly, “Jesus.” “No, just Joanne, although I can see how you might make the mistake, coming back from the dead and all.

I’m not leaving,” Sam said, his eyes fixed on the boy he was holding. “Not until Disney Princess here apologizes, or his head comes off, one of the two.

It's not your enemies who are likeliest to hurt you. It is, always, those you trust.

Want me to warm up the sauce?” “Do we do that? I mean, it’s in a jar, right? Can’t you just dump it over the pasta?” “Well, you can, but it tastes better if you warm it up.” “Oh.” Eve sighed. “This is complicated. No wonder I never cook.

I never forget,” Myrnin said in a choked whisper. “Certainly not with your nails in my throat. They’re quite an excellent mnemonic device.

I'm still alive. And I'm still fabulous.

Bouncing in hoppy little circles like a demented Goth bunny.