“I stand before her, meeting her eye to eye and nose to nose. My head takes a slight bow as I clench my fist. “I should have just killed you like any other bloodsucking vampire.”“So why didn’t you?” She tiptoes, clenching her first as well. I have to admit. She is a much better version of the Snow White you see in a Disney movie. She’s kind of kickass. I like it, but I will never let her know.“Why do you care so much about me then? Ha?” She asks."I should have killed you before," I repeated while all I could do is wonder how I'd ever fallen in love with a monster girl.”

“She is so lovely she could kill you without you even noticing it. A monster girl who knows when to kiss and when to kill.”

“She had me from Hello," I say to Zizzy."What's wrong with you dude? She never said Hell. She always welcomes us with blood dripping fangs and a horde of corpses surrounding her." Zizzy protests."Monsters have their own way to say Hello, moron. They just need someone to get it, that this is actually hello.”

“My friend's call me Peter"..."But you can call me Pan.""Why should I call you Pan?""Because Pan is a god, and I practically own you.”

“You know what Adage means?"She asked me.I shook my head no."It's a beautiful word," she said."People will tell you it means the purest love in the world, or love that consumes you, but I know what it really mean. It means love beyond reason, and that is the best love in the world.”

“Meghan and I talked about music - she loved Ella Fitzgerald. "What about all the hip acts that college kids love? Do you like any of them?""Like who?""I don't know all their names. Snoop Diggity Do and all those hip cats." Meghan shook her head and laughed. We talked about movies - she loved anything made before 1964. No wonder I thought she was older; she was an old soul in a young body."So what's your favorite movie?" I asked."To Kill a Mockingbird." My mother would have liked Meghan. She made my father and me watch To Kill a Mockingbird with her when I was in first grade. It must have been the twentieth time she'd seen it, but she still cried at the parts that made her weepy-eyed the first nineteen times.”

“I am not my heart rate. I am not my skills. I am not my sleeping problems. I am not my stress. I am not my fears. I am not how I look like. I am the very essence of me. I am my will. I am my passion. I am my beliefs. I am how much I can give and receive love. I am infinite and possible. I am my soul.”