All In

Too young to party, just odd enough to participate in federal investigations of serial murder. Story of my life.

Don’t you ever apologize for being what you are.

Across from us, Lia eyed our hands and then brought her own to her forehead in a melodramatic motion. "I'm a dark and angsty profiler," she intoned. "No," she countered in a falsetto, bringing her other hand up, "I'm a dark and angsty profiler. Ours is a star-crossed love.

Nothing hurts you unless you let it.

Home isn't a place, Cassie.' The memory crept up on me. 'Home is the people who love you most, the people who will always love you, forever and ever, no matter what.

Your statistical track record for decision-making is somewhat concerning.

I don't like running away," Michael; brought his eyes from the floor to mine. "I don't run, I don't hide, I don't cower, I don't beg, Cassie, because running and hiding and begging doesn't work. It never works.

Pretend for a moment," Lia told her, "that we're all very, very slow." "I'm not very good at pretending," Sloane told her seriously. "But I think I can do that.

Luckily for us, I've never met a bad idea I did not immediately embrace like the dearest of friends.

You hacked the FBI?" I said incredulously. "And Interpol," Sloane replied brightly. "And you'll never guess what I found.

Home isn't a place. Home is the people who love you most, the people who will always love you, forever and ever, no matter what.

Life in the fast lane," Michael's reply. "You have to adjust for inflation.

When you were a kid," he continued, his voice even and low, "Your mother taught you to observe people. She also taught you not to get attached.

Did you know that New Hampshire has more hamsters per capita than any other state?

You want power-either because you've already had a taste of it and want more, or because you've been made to feel powerless for too long.

My client," the lawyer said forcefully, "is pleading the Fifth.

You do what you can," he said, after seconds of silence had stretched to a minute, "to make sure your kids are safe. From the second they're born..." He stared at the lines of Nightshade's face, the ordinariness of it. "You want to protect them. From every skinned knee, from hurt feelings and punk kids who push smaller ones into the dirt, form the worst parts of yourself and the worst parts of this world.

You know that just because you ignore something, that doesn't make it go away.

You should try getting some sleep.” Sloane frowned. “Giraffes only sleep four and a half hours a day.” -Sloane

I'm older now," Dean said, testing out the possibility. "Wiser, better. I've waited so long, planned so long...." His voice was lower when he profiled, deeper. "Once upon a time, I am an amateur. Now, I'm an artist. Invincible. Unstoppable." "And this time," I said slowly, "you want credit.

You could be happy with three. Three is a good number. But in this life, in this world, three is not enough. You can't stop. You won't. If you don't have their attention yet, you will soon.

Don’t,” Judd told her sharply. “Don’t you ever apologize for being what you are.