They call her my singer—because her blood sings for me.

When I was 8, I was reading 'Gone with the Wind' and 'Pride and Prejudice' and all that, not knowing it wasn't my reading level.

His eyes flashed open. “Is it so unbearable to have me love you? Is that it?

Her name is Wanda, not it. You will not touch her. Any mark you leave on her, I will double on your worthless hide.

It's not the face, but the expressions on it. It's not the voice, but what you say. It's not how you look in that body, but the thing you do with it. You are beautiful.

For some reason, my temper was hardwired to my tear ducts. I usually cried when I was angry, a humiliating tendency.

The way I feel about you will never change. Of course I love you—and there's nothing you can do about it!” “That's all I needed to hear.