Writers. For some reason, a lot of you reject what you hear and see in your heads. If you go too long ignoring it, it builds up and then you do all sorts of weird things. Mumble to yourself. Nightmares. Day-dreams. Total anarchy and chaos. Before you know it, the writer is either sitting in corner feverishly humming to his- or herself or on Prozac. You’re not on Prozac, are you? (Esther)

Safe. No one ever is. No matter how hard we try. No matter how much we plan and prepare. There will always be an enemy at the door and a storm trying to knock us down. Life's not about security. It's about picking up the peices after it's all over and carrying on.

Someone please tell me that we’re not seriously having a friggin’ debate over the genius of ‘Karma Chameleon’ at seven o’clock in the morning? (Xypher)

Honey, you need to get laid. (Selena) Why don’t you speak a little louder, Lanie? I don’t think the guys in Canada were able to hear you. (Grace) Oh, I don’t know. They’re probably headed south even as we speak. (Waiter)

still waters run deep. ~Tabitha

One of you guys is going to have to feed the vampiric lawyer some blood and it can’t be me. (Caleb) Why? You afraid of a little bite? I’m anemic. (Nick) And I’m Catholic. Doesn’t that knock me out of the running? (Nick)

Sometimes things have to go wrong in order to go right.