“My existence is colorless when I’m not imagining you. You haunt me, Annabelle. ”
“I want you back, Annabelle.” This time my laughter is full of nothing but genuine humor. It’s that ‘oh my god, I can’t believe that’ kind of humor. I lean forward and put my face in my palms, still laughing. “Holy crap,” I say in-between laughs, “that’s hilarious.” I peek up at him to see his disgruntled expression and then bust up laughing again. “I’m serious,” he grunts out, looking cute in his exasperation, damn him. Not done, I hold up a hand. “Oh, oh, wait. Just let me go get my gun so you can shoot me again. Of course I want to get back together with you, Gabriel.” Putting on a serious face, I say earnestly, “He shoots me because he loves me.”
“That’s it. That is fucking it. I stand up, grab Anna by the waist and, while dragging her to the bedroom, say over my shoulder to Brent, “If you can answer the door when her brother gets here, we’d appreciate it. Don’t bother us for the next hour, two if Anna’s as insatiable as usual. You may want to turn on the television to drown out the noise!” I push a laughing Anna into the bedroom and slam the door behind us. ”
“since I’m still healing from my gunshot wound. That I wear like a badge of honor. My baby gave me this injury. ‘Cause she loves me.”
“Why do you love me?”
I sigh at the question I’ve asked myself frequently over the years. With a quick peck to his lips, I tell him, “Because, in you, I found my heart.”
“All right, I’ll go with this one called ‘Handsome Devil’. That’s me after all.”
“of myself right off the bat? If that doesn’t send her running back to me, I don’t know what will.”
“How do you say goodbye to the person who was the single greatest influence on who you are?”
“Reason calls me a liar. I tell Reason where he can shove it. Reason must be a guy, because only a male can be that big of a pain in the ass.”
“That same night, I wrote my first short story. It took me thirty minutes. It was a dark little tale about a man who found a magic cup and learned that if he wept into the cup, his tears turned into pearls. But even though he had always been poor, he was a happy man and rarely shed a tear. So he found ways to make himself sad so that his tears could make him rich. As the pearls piled up, so did his greed grow. The story ended with the man sitting on a mountain of pearls, knife in hand, weeping helplessly into the cup with his beloved wife's slain body in his arms.”
“You just couldn't get hold of the things you had done and turn them right again. Such power might be given to the gods, but it was not given to men and women, and that was probably a good thing. Had it been otherwise, people would probably die of old age still trying to rewrite their teens.”
“Of course they needed to care. It was the meaning of everything.”
“At that moment, in the sunset on Watership Down, there was offered to General Woundwort the opportunity to show whether he was really the leader of vision and genius which he believed himself to be, or whether he was no more than a tyrant with the courage and cunning of a pirate. For one beat of his pulse the lame rabbit's idea shone clearly before him. He grasped it and realized what it meant. The next, he had pushed it away from him.”
“Draw your chair up, and hand me my violin, for the only problem which we have still to solve is how to while away these bleak autumnal evenings.”
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