“I didn't need to be rescued."
"Sorry, but my sword outranks your…" she glanced at my hand, "sock puppet.”
“This is the first adventure I’ve survived without being kidnapped, attacked, knocked unconscious or possessed by evil spirits. A ripped blouse? Ruined skirt? Bad hair? I’d call this progress. ~Jaime Vegas”
“Let’s just say that being able to contact ghosts makes for some very interesting ménages á trios… and ménages á quartre, and ménages á … whatever five is in French. ~Jaime Vegas”
“I saw my true power. The darkest power. The greatest power. ~Jaime Vegas”
“Headache, hmm?" His expression went serious. "Do you know what's the best cure for that?"
He said it so matter-of-factly I had to sputter a laugh.
"Multiple, if possible," he continued. "It's a proven medical fact that one physiologic event, like orgasm, can cancel out the effects of another physiological process, such as a headache."
His expression was perfectly serious, but I said, "You're full of shit."
"Perhaps. If so, you should call my bluff. Just open the door and we'll test it out.”
“Good night, Jeremy," I said, and closed the door.
I stepped away, reached back and started unzipping my dress.
He pressed his hands to the glass. I could read his lips. "That's not fair."
I smiled and finished unzipping. The dress slid off my shoulders, but stayed there. I looked at him, his gaze fixed on me, eyes dark with lust.
"You wouldn't dare," he mouthed.
I turned, then let it fall off the rest of the way. And, once off, there was nothing else to remove.
I heard him though the glass, heard him say my name in a deep growl that made me shiver, but I didn't turn around, just lifted my fingers to wave over my shoulder, then strolled into the bathroom for a very long, very cold shower.”
“What the hell is that?"
I jumped and glanced over to see Kristof staring at Grady, who was waving his arms, rolling his eyes, shaking and moaning.
"I think he's possessed," I said.
"By what? Epilepsy?”
“Suburbia: a place where they cut down trees and name streets in their memory.”
“What, anyway, was he to say? That intelligence could surpass and excel the blind force of evolution, with its emphasis on mutation, struggle and death? That conscious cooperation was more efficient than feral competition?”
“I realize,” said Sumner, “that the press is hardly reliable.” Lincoln turned from the window; suddenly, he grinned. “Oh, yes, they are. They lie. And then they re-lie. So they are nothing if not re-lie-able.”
“Soldiers and children do as they're told. Children grow out of it, but soldiers just die.”
“A world in which time is absolute is a world of consolation. For while the movements of people are unpredictable, the movement of time is predictable. While people can be doubted, time cannot be doubted. While people brood, time skips ahead without looking back. In the coffee houses, in the government buildings, in boats of Lake Geneva, people look at their watches and take refuge in time. Each person knows that somewhere is recorded the moment she was born, the moment she took her first step, the moment of her first passion, the moment she said goodbye to her parents.”
“Abram spoke long into the night. His stories took shape slowly and deliberately”
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