“Vengeance is mine saith the Lord but this morning He's going to fucking well have to share.”
“…what your life means depends on how you tell the story.”
“Once you sand the corners off consequences, people start to get really fucking weird.”
“It’s one thing to be a good guy because that’s who you are. It’s something else to be a good guy because you’re too much a fucking pussy to break the rules.”
“When your authority comes straight from God, shit always turns ugly.”
“I know some gods. Better than I want to. Not one of them gives a shit about your heart”
“The demon stopped its frantic attempts to escape. It stared at the glitter and began to pant, fingers twitching in anticipation. More twitching. Faster than she'd expected, it zoomed up to the sparkles, despite the danger. She snagged the fiend right before it picked up the last one, and dropped the Magpie into the cup. Instead of a flood of swear words or the offer of a favor, she heard a long, tortured sigh. Then it sat, sorting the glitter into piles by color.
Now she'd seen everything.”
“True religion, indeed, is that which does not have to be avowed in order to provide the solace that at times...if only rarely...you cannot do without.”
“John Cusack is standing over there.”
I followed his incredulous gaze to where a man very like Mr. Cusack did indeed stand, smoking a cigarette as he leaned against a building. I sighed.
“That’s not John Cusack. That’s Jerome.”
“Seriously?”
“Yup. I told you he looked like John Cusack.”
“Keyword: looked. That guy doesn’t look like him. That guy is him.”
“It isn't that it's too soon, you're on the back of my bike, it ain't too soon. You can buy sheets. You cannot install blinds."
"um..." I mumbled. "Can you explain the difference?"
"Sheets are chick territory," he said without delay. "You gotta use tools, that's dick territory."
"Oh," I whispered.
"Don't tread on dick territory," he advised.
"So, um... is a paintbrush a tool?" I asked cautiously.
"If you're paintin' the side of the house, yeah. If you're painting mud colored paint in a room, no."
"It's terracotta," I said softly.
"Whatever," he muttered, his mouth twitching.
"Or, the paint chip called it Mexican horizon. The blue is dawn sky."
"Definitely chick territory," Tate replied, losing the fight with his grin.
"What about...pictures for the walls?" I asked.
"Chick," he answered instantly.
"Um...could I ask that, instead of you getting angry and being a jerk, maybe you give me a head's up when I'm doing something stupid?”
“Too many!' James shouted, and slammed the door behind him.”
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