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.

[Kenny] leaned back against the counter and studied the other man. “So Dex, how’s come you’re still alive to tell the tale?” Dexter wiped up a small coffee spill, the sat on the stool next to Torie. “All I’m prepared to say is that your sister and I slept together, and, since I compromised her, I intend to marry her.” Torie dropped her forehead and banged it three times against the countertop. “You are such a geek.” “Doesn’t sound like she’s too enthusiastic about it,” Kenny said.

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

You remind me of someone with a bad toothache who's hitting herself in the head with a hammer to distract herself from the pain in her mouth.

Life sure is easier when you're rich." "And a natural born charmer. Don't forget that part." "How could I?" she retorted. "It's the only thing we have in common.

It runs in the family. And don't expect me to be ashamed. Yankees lock away loony relatives, but down here, we prop 'em up on parade floats and march 'em through the middle of town.

She loved Bram in a clear-eyed way she’d never loved her ex-husband, no rose-colored glasses or mindless giddiness, no Cinderella fantasies or false certainty that he’d put her life in order. What she felt for Bram was messy, honest, and soul-deep. He felt like…part of her, the best and the worst. Like someone she wanted to struggle through life with; share triumphs and catastrophes; share holidays, birthdays, every days