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

Both of you’ll just have to believe me. Emma’s one of those women who was born with… The thing is, the minute a heterosexual man looks at her, all he can think about is – well, her mouth, and – ” “Emma?” Torie’s own mouth gaped in astonishment. Patrick crossed his legs. “Maybe we’re not talking about the same person. British accent? Good appetite? Hums songs from The Lion King when she doesn’t think anybody’s listening?

My website bulletin board is the place I interact with my readers.

Before you lost your mind, how did you make a living?" "I was a hitman for the Mafia. Are you done crying yet?" "I wasn't crying! And I wish you were a hitman because, if I had money, I'd hire you right this minute to knock yourself off.

Try to live with a generous heart. Doing anything else is too hard.

You try spending six months sitting at somebody's bedside, waiting for them to die and then tell me that the happy-ending love story isn't one of God's good gifts.

Nobody else can demean me. I can only demean myself