“Yeah, you're probably right," I admitted and slowly pulled myself out from underneath the covers. "You know, I really wish you'd catch onto the fact that I'm always right.”

“Don't worry. I'm only your escort tonight. I would offer to protect you from the drunken attentions of the other men, but I know all to well that you're quite capagble of holding your own. You're probably armed. Right?"Always.”

“It's just that, I know how you're unhappy a lot. And, maybe it doesn't help anything, but I wanted you to know that I'm always here. I won't ever let you down―I promise that you can always count on me. Wow, that does sound corny. But you know that, right? That I would never, ever hurt you?""Yeah Jake. I know that. And I already do count on you, probably more than you know.”

“Acheron: You're really not right, are you?Nick: Yeah. I know. It was all the paint chips I ate as a kid. They were good, but chromosomally damaging”

“Ryan held out his hands. "What the hell is this? Beat The Shit Out Of Ryan Week?" "I didn't think you'd mind, since you're always insisting upon getting yourself hospitalized,"Claire said.Ryan's face screwed into disgust. "That was uncalled for.""The truth hurts, baby."He smiled. "If you're going to talk to me like that, you can insult me all day long."Claire pulled her car keys from her pocket, and then pulled on Ryan's hand. "I meant that you're a baby. It wasn't a term of endearment.""Yeah, right.”

“...Right now there's a pair of bad cops on their way out here to shoot me.""You don't know that.""Yeah, you're right," Stranahan said. "They're probably just collecting Toys for Tots. Now go.”