“I want you to take note, Commander, that turning in my badge would be like cutting off my arm. But if it comes down to a choice between the job and my marriage, then I lose the arm.”

“I‘m very aware that my personal life, my marriage, is the source of speculation and interest in the department and with the public. I can live with that. I’m also aware that my husband’s businesses, and his style of conducting his businesses, are also the source of speculation and interest. I have no particular problem with that. But I resent very much that my reputation and my husband’s character should be questioned this way. From the media, Commander, it’s to be expected, but not from my superior officer. Not from any member of the department I’ve served to the best of my ability. I want you to take note, Commander, that turning in my badge would be like cutting off my arm. But if it comes down to a choice between the job and my marriage, then I lose the arm.”

“His eyes shone playfully, turning his irises a deep cocoa. "That's why I like you, you're a challenge."I folded my arms and leaned back on one leg. "Oh, so that's why...""Well, that and your ass."My cheeks flamed. "Thanks.""And your breasts.""Got it.""And what's between your-""Dex," I warned, cutting him off.”

“It’s only a scratch, don’t cut my arm off!”

“I don't believe in an interventionist GodBut I know, darling, that you doBut if I did I would kneel down and ask HimNot to intervene when it came to youNot to touch a hair on your headTo leave you as you areAnd if He felt He had to direct youThen direct you into my armsInto my arms, O LordInto my arms, O LordInto my arms, O LordInto my armsAnd I don't believe in the existence of angelsBut looking at you I wonder if that's trueBut if I did I would summon them togetherAnd ask them to watch over youTo each burn a candle for youTo make bright and clear your pathAnd to walk, like Christ, in grace and loveAnd guide you into my armsInto my arms, O LordInto my arms, O LordInto my arms, O LordInto my armsAnd I believe in LoveAnd I know that you do tooAnd I believe in some kind of pathThat we can walk down, me and youSo keep your candlew burningAnd make her journey bright and pureThat she will keep returningAlways and evermoreInto my arms, O LordInto my arms, O LordInto my arms, O LordInto my arms”

“My arms were covered in scratches and had bled a little so I licked my finger and cleaned them off and thought God would have done a better job if he made blood taste like Three Musketeers bars.”