Dallas, is it remotely possible for you to carry on a conversation that's not loaded down with manure?

I don't love you anymore", she whispered. "I don't love you at all." His throat closed. "It's all right, sweetheart. I love you enough for both of us.

So, Beav, tell me about yourself." "I'm Blue." "Sweetheart, if I had your dubious taste in men, I wouldn't be too happy, either." "My name is Blue. Blue Bailey.

It must be hard being you,” she said. “Mr. Perfect on the outside. Dr. Evil on the inside.” “It’s not that hard. The rest of the world isn’t as insightful as you.

Isn't there a mirror someplace where you can go admire yourself?" "I never knew a woman so hung up on my good looks." "All your women are hung up on your good looks. They just pretend it's your personality.

If I could put my brain in her body, the world would be mine for the taking.

But even as she told herself that, she remembered the way Cal had looked today with his shirt off while he’d stood on the ladder and scraped the side of Annie’s house. Watching those muscles bunch and flex every time he moved had made her crazy and she’d finally grabbed his shirt, thrown it at him, and delivered a stern lecture on the depletion of the ozone layer and skin cancer.