How many fingers am I holding up?" he inquired. Lucille regarded him blearily and said, "Avocado.

Being able to depend on someone doesn't mean you're dependent on them.

Think of a book special to you, and how much bleaker and poorer your life would be if that one writer had not existed - if that one writer had not, a hundred times or a thousand, made the choice to write. You're going to be that one writer one day for somebody you may never meet. Nobody can write that book you're going to write - that book that will light up and change up a life - but you.

And what are your interests and hobbies, Nicholas?" Annabel asked faintly, sounding like a cross between a television interviewer and a hostage. Nick considered this for a minute, and then said "I like swords." Annabel leaned over her plate and asked, her voice changing "You fence?" "Not exactly," Nick drawled. "I'm more freestyle.

I don't really get scared. Want to know what else i don't feel?" PITY

She walked beside Jared, four inches of rain-dashed darkness between her hanging wrist and his.

If you’re calling her a floozy, I’m by way of being a bit of a floozy myself.” “Oh, Jared,” said Kami, who was well aware of his romantic experience, or total lack thereof. “You are not.” “Well, I have floozy ambitions.