Do you want me to call you Celery Stick instead of Cupcake or Honey-Pie? It just doesn’t inspire the same warm and fuzzy feelings.

Vampires. Honestly, they're like children sometimes.

His eyes, I’d long since discovered, could be as eloquent and expressive as his pen. The messages they sent me now hardly seemed decent for a public setting.

I loved you and you destroyed me. You took my heart and ripped it up. You might as well have staked me.

Are you kidding? He's arrogant, sarcastic, likes to intimidate people, and—oh." Okay. Maybe she had a point.

If I was drunk, I wouldn’t be here at all. And really, this is pretty good for four White Russians.” “White what?” I almost sat down but was afraid the chair might dematerialize beneath me. “It’s a drink,” he said. “You’d think I wouldn’t be into something named that—you know, considering my own personal experience with Russians. But they’re surprisingly delicious. The drinks, not real Russians.

But each time you use spirit, you're more likely to go crazy.” “Already crazy about you, Sage.