Note to self on waking. Lay off the beer on an empty stomach. This dream is even more screwed up than the time I had a donkey and a corkscrew. (Aiden) Donkey and a corkscrew? (Leta) I don’t know you well enough to fill you in on those details. (Aiden)

You like rock? Little boy, I’m not your friend. I’m not your Dark-Hunter and I’m not your friggin’ date. You only speak to me when I ask you a question. Otherwise you keep your mouth shut, your eyes off me, and you might live long enough to get me to the French Quarter. (Zarek)

Let’s at least hope it’s not a gallu. Why? They’re not all bad, in a smelly, need-to-be-killed kind of way.

What? It's not my fault I stab all the fanged people. They shouldn't look like Daimons. (Tabitha) I didn't look like a Daimon, but you stabbed me. (Valerius) Yeah, well, you looked like a lawyer so I had to kill you. It was a moral imperative. (Tabitha)

I tried to pick Nykyrian’s pocket last year. (Jana) And you let him live? (Kiara) I have an age requirement before I kill someone. (Nykyrian)

Can you keep a secret?” “Me and Tupperware, baby. We seal tight. Ain’t nothing going to get out.

No! I don’t want to Ouija, or do the pendulum thing, and I swear if I see one tarot card or rune stone I’ll yack cupcake all over you. (Grace)