I had a standing arrangement with God: I'd agree to believe in him—barely—so long as he let me sleep in on Sundays.

I nodded. "Yup. What I did was tantamount to treason in their eyes." "I don't know what 'tantamount' means, but it sounds pretty serious.

Adrian suddenly glanced up at me. Our gazes locked, and I felt like he could read my mind. How often did he think about that kiss? And if he really was crazy about me, did he imagine more than just kissing? Did he fantasize about me? What kinds of things did he think about? His lips on my neck? His hand on my leg? And was that leg bare . . . ?

Don't beat yourself up over what you could have or should have done. The past is gone. Move on to the future.

...and motioned me toward a spot next to a middle-aged Moroi in a very formal and very designer black suit. The suit screamed, I'm sorry the queen is dead, and I'm going to look fashionable while showing my grief

When I saw you fall..." "You thought, 'Wow, she's a loser.

Because I’ve got a lot more terms of endearment to use. Honey pie. Sugarplum. Bread pudding," “Why are they all high-calorie foods?