“As in, I wouldn't know normal if it marched up and poked me in the eye.”

“all he’s done since then is poke me with his pen.” “Probably because he wants to poke you with something else,” she said dryly. My eyes bugged. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“If I wouldn't of spent so much time shooting spit wads at my English teacher I'd know how to punctuate good thing I normally write poetry.”

“What are we going to do, Ayden?" she whispered, glaring up at me."I don't know," I confessed. "But how about we burn that bridge when we get there?""I thought it was 'cross' that bridge?"I lightly poked her in the eye and she laughed. "No. We're burning bridges. Crossing is so overrated." I smiled and touched the corner of her eyes, captivated by the iridescent blues."I think I like the sound of that," she whispered."Yeah?""Yeah.”

“Your precious dirty underpants and scores of blades are untouched by me. But I'm not thick. I can actually see something dangerous and not poke myself in the eye with it.”

“A man who wouldn't cheat for a poke don't want one bad enough. --Augustus "Gus" McCrae”