I had no name for that particular hue of orange, other than unfortunate.

The vamp in McMann’s stared at me. I guess he didn’t like the Goth look. Most of them don’t; somehow they think I’m making fun of them. Which I totally am.

It's only a hunting spider, it won't hurt you." -Myrnin "So not the point!" -Claire "Oh, pish. It's just another living creature. Nothing to be frightened of, if handled properly. I think I'll call him Bob. Bob the spider." -Myrnin "You're insane." -Claire

What’s her name? Claire, what’s her name?

Okay, that really shouldn't have happened. And we’re not going to talk about that, right? Ever?” “Right,” she said. She felt like there was light dripping from her fingertips. Spilling out of her toes. She felt full of light, in fact, warm buttery sunlight. “Never happened.” He opened his mouth, then closed it, and closed his eyes. “Claire—” “I know.” “Lock the door,” he said.

When she set Shane’s glass of Coke down in front of him, she did it with probably a little too much emphasis; he glanced up at her with a question-mark expression.[...] ‘‘What?’’ Shane asked her, and took a drink. ‘‘Did I forget to say thanks? Because, thanks. Best Coke ever. Did you make it yourself? Special recipe?

Oh, try not to sound so much like Mom—you don’t have the ovaries" (Monica Morrell - Last Breath)