I guess we're oil and water. (Phoebe) I'd say we're more like gasoline and a blowtorch. (Dan)

‎"There’s no such thing as mistakes – only a lack of foresight.

Disagreements over money are the biggest cause of divorce." She waved her hand. "Absolutely no problem. Your money is our money. My money is my money." She wrote away. "I should make you negotiate with Phoebe.

I love you, Meg. I want to marry you. I want to sleep with you every night, make love with you, have kids. I want to fight together and work together and—just be together. Now are you going to keep standing there, staring at me, or could you put me out of my misery and say you still love me, at least a little?

His pacing stopped. The mattress sighed as he sat on the edge. seconds ticked by before he spoke so softly she could barely hear. "Sometimes I want to leave this town so bad I can taste it.

Honey lamb, there are a lot of things in this world I feel insecure about. Religion. Our national economic policies. What color socks to wear with a blue suit. But I've got to tell you that my performance in that hotel room last night isn't one of them.

Maybe I'm missing something, but I don't rightly see how somebody who claims to have had -What'd you say? One partner?-can be welled trained." He had a point. Her brain clicked away. "I was referring to the instructional videotapes my agency has all its new employees watch." "They train you by watching videos?" His eyes narrowed reminding her of a hunter looking down a gun sight,"Now, ain't that interesting." She felt a little surge of pleasure as her child lost another few points on the Iowa Test of Basic Skills. Even a computer couldn't have picked a more perfect match.