Because you know, I’m your best friend, but you’re just not that badass, man.

Talk. I'll just wait' shall I? Because my mission to save this town is of no importance whatsoever next to your girl talk."- Myrnin "Oh, shut up, you medieval drama queen" - Claire

He broke the kiss and leaned against her, breathing hard. "Good morning to you, too. Man, I just can't stay mad when you do that.

People talk about nature as a mother, but to me she's always been Medea, ready and willing to slaughter her children.

Claire was struggling through last summer’s diary volume when Myrnin popped in through the portal, wearing a big floppy black hat and a kind of crazy/stylish pimp coat that covered him from neck to ankles, black leather gloves, and a black and silver walking stick with a dragon’s head on it. And, on his lapel was a button that said, If you can read this, thank a teacher.

I’m taking off my shoes.’’ ‘‘Fine. Shoes off.’’ ‘‘And my pants.’’ ‘‘Don’t push it, Claire.

Michael held me when I got inside, because I was shaking all over. That felt so good. Warm all the way down. Did I mention Michael’s feet? They’re all the way sexy, and he’s always barefoot – he hates shoes. I wish he hated pants and shirts, too.