Leave the door open," my dad said, the second most common warning in his arsenal. Right behind, "Nash, go home.

Kaylee do you know why you are here?" "Yeah. Because the doors are locked.

The worst memories stick with us, while the nice ones always seem to slip through our fingers.

Think of it as a second opinion on his value. If he wasn't worth the fight, wouldn't she just let him go? Wouldn't you?

Wouldn't you be mad if I told you to give up on someone you cared about? Just... hand her over to someone who doesn't even deserve her?" Tod gave me a strange, sad look I couldn't interpret, and the blues in his irises shifted subtly for a moment before he got control of them. "Yeah. I guess I would.

I am not cute. I am the dreaded Grim Reaper. People fear me, you know. There's a whole song about it.

Hang on, Pa, don't reach for yer shotgun just yet," I said, grinning over the protective streak I found funny, when there wasn't actually anything to shelterme from. "We were just circlin' the wagons, not having an orgy." My dad suddenly looked like he might be sick. "Please don't ever say that word again." "Wagons?