“Stop a knife? You're serious.""As a heart attack.""You are something else."I couldn't tell if he was giving me a compliment or a veiled insult. "I try to be an individual. It's all the rage.”

“Come with me," he said quietly and extended his hand."Nuh-uh." I shook my head, scooting in the opposite direction . "I don't think so, All American Hero.”

“Don’t tell me,” I snickered. “You’re in a club that gathers together like raving Trekkies to share secrets of the afterlife. I bet you even have an Enigma CD you crank up to get in the mood.” “Don’t be silly.” His face lit up with an enormous grin. “We listen to Enya, not Enigma.”

“Rhiannon's Law #63: Fake it until you make it. You might not know what the fuck you're doing, but that doesn't mean everyone else is aware of your inaptitude. When in doubt, hold your head high and pretend you have a clue.”

“You know.” My voice was laced with sarcasm. “I love being reminded of just how f*cked up people find my company. One minute, I’m asked to be more loving and sweet. In fact, someone once told me it was downright adorable. But when I actually give the public what they want, they think I’m suffering from a chemical imbalance.”

“I can’t help it; this isn’t like you at all. I know the blood exchange changes things—including mood and body chemistry—but this is beyond any kind of scientific explanation.”

“If you were anyone else, your nuts would be taking a long vacation, and the destination would be out of your mouth”