“Imagine a landscape of nothing but astrology references and naughty limericks. That's what you're going to reduce me to.”

“You're perfect- beautiful, intelligent, intractable in a kind of... attractive way. Headstrong, but a good strategist. An amazing fighter.""But that's not enough?""It's too much. You think I haven't thought about what it might be like to return to my rooms at the end of the night and find you there- to find you in my bed, to have your body and your laugh and your mind? To look across a room and know that you were mine- that *I'd* claimed you. *Me.* Ethan Sullivan. Not the four-hundred-year-old vampire, not the child of Balthasar or the Novitiate of Peter Cadogan. Me. Just me. Just you and me.”

“Give me something to go on, here. What kind of black magic are we talking? Elphaba,Wicked Witch of the West-type stuff or Slytherin-type stuff?”

“Scout - oblivious to our jokes at her expense - pushed forward. "I don't understand why you're arguing with me. You know you have no chance."Michael clutched at his chest dramatically. "You're killing me, Scout. Really. There's chest pain - a tightness." He faked a groan.”

“Lils, you've barely even planned Sneak yet. Give it time. He'll get there.""He did ask me out on Saturday.""OMG, you two are totally getting married and having a litter of babies. Ooh, what if that's literally true?"-Scout and Lily about werewolf Jason”

“A friend once told me the hurt that came with the end of a relationship was painful because it was the death of a dream—the future you’d imagined with a lover, a loved one, a child, or a friend. That loss was its own painful, nearly tangible thing. You had to reimagine your future, perhaps in a different place, with different people, doing different things than you might have first imagined.”

“It's either food or blood, Ethan.And given thats it's just me and you in this car right now, food would be considerably less complicated, don't you think?”