“So, Mr. Nick,' murmured the valet, applying shaving soap to his employer's face with an ivory-handled brush, 'are you writing a book?'Damn him, thought Lerner. He knows I detest conversation with a razor at my throat.'My memoirs,' he muttered. 'A few jottings only. Waiting to die is such a bore, I write to pass the time.' ("The Overseer")”

“You will excuse my being so much overpowered. If I find him conversible, I shall be glad of his acquaintance; but if he is only a chattering coxcomb, he will not occupy much of my time or thoughts.”

“Nick? Have you ever…” ”No.” He lifted his head again, studied me. “I’ve thought about it, but it never seemed right.” The idea of him making love to anyone else sent a shaft of pain straight through my middle. “You better wait on me, damn it.” ”I don’t think I have much choice.” He brushed my hair back. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted, Alix, the only one I’ll ever want. That’s a promise.”

“Nick! Wait!” – Kyrian‘Wait, my gluteus maximus. Vampire was shy of a few quarts of blood if he thought Nick had any intention of not going Casper on him.’ – Nick”

“Bastards have pissed me off," Reed snarled, out of breath, as he backed into the open armory door. "They hit me in the face."Lang grabbed Reed's jaw, turned his face toward him. "It's just a scratch."It's just my fucking face," Reed sputtered. "It needs to look good on a book jacket when I write my memoirs someday.”

“I would willingly pass my life writing and re-writing the same book - that one book every writer carries within him - the image of his own soul.”