Ian’s the black sheep.” “I thought I was the black sheep,” said Seth, sounding almost hurt. “No. You’re the unfocused artistic one. I’m the responsible one. Ian’s the wild, hedonistic one.” “What’s hedonistic?” asked Kendall. Her father considered. “It means you run up a lot of credit card bills you can’t pay, change jobs a lot, and have a lot of…lady friends.

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

People often ask where I get my inspiration from, and I always say I have no good answer because, well, inspiration comes from everywhere: people, places, memories.

Since I’m presuming you don’t mean you finally bought him a leash, let me say simply that there is a big difference between allowing an animal to ravage you and allowing yourself to be ravaged. One is common. The other is art. It is planned. Crafted, even. Only capable of being done by a master.

Really, it's my fault. It was there. A hundred times there. How often did I see it? I knew. It kept happening. Over and over, you'd say you were through with him...and over and over, I'd believe it...no matter what my eyes showed me. No matter what my heart told me. My. Fault.

This is a great idea,” said Trey. “You kids should totaly go see that play. Make a whole day of it. Grab some dinner and hang out at the library or whatever it is you do for fun.

Did Belikov bend the rules of time and space to get here so fast? He can do that, right?