“He was one of those guys who'd pronounce I'm a hugger as he came at you, neglecting to ask if the feeling was mutual.”

“Which one are you?" I whispered. "What?" he asked. "Are you the good guy, the sweet guy who takes care of me or are you this guy who's kind of a jerk?" His answer was instantaneous. "I'm both those guys, babe. Your job is to get used to it." There it was, another order. Not even an ultimatum. Just, "get used to it".”

“...Oh god. I'm one of those girls.""What girls?" he asked, perplexed."Those girls. The ones in all those books and TV shows. Some dumb high school girl falls in love with some supernatural guy, and he's all, 'Behold, I am five million years old!' and she's all, 'Oh my god, how can you ever love pathetic little me!' and he's like, 'Because of destiny!' or whatever. It's just so...ew. You know?”

“Not that he regretted having killed the guy in Stockton. The one who'd been ready to shoot him over the five crumpled dollar bills in his jeans pocket. He was quite happy to have sent that particular home boy to hell.”

“I was on the street. This guy waved to me, and he came up to me and said, 'I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else.' And I said, 'I am.”

“I know it's selfish of me to even think of sayin this. You deserve a guy who'll... pluck the stars from the sky and lay 'em at yer feet. I'm the kinda guy who'd step on 'em on my way out the door. I ain't got nuthin to offer you. He takes my hands in his. I jest want you to know that... How I feel about you ain't changed. No. That ain't true. It has changed. It's grown stronger. He touches my face. You run deep in me Saba.”