“Irony, perfect definition: that for which I want to possess it, I would no longer want once I possessed it.”

“Hours later, Adam propped himself up on an elbow and stared down at Gabrielle, pondering what made beauty.He thought he was beginning to understand. It wasn't symmetry of features; it wasn't perfection. It was uniqueness. That which one person had that no other possessed. That which was only their own.”

“I have no desire to sleep with you. I want to fuck you. And there is no such thing as perfectly good sex.  If it’s “perfectly good,” I mock in falsetto, “he should be shot in the head and put out of everyone’s misery. Sex either blows your fucking mind, or it’s not good enough. You want me to blow your fucking mind, Ms. Lane? Come on.  Do it.  Be a big girl.”

“You want more of me, don't you, Barrons? I got under your skin deep. I hope you got addicted to me. I was a wild one, wasn't I? I bet you never had sex like that in your entire existence, huh, O Ancient One? I bet I rocked your perfectly disciplined little world. I hope wanting me hurts like hell!"Mac”

“This isn't what I wanted. This isn't what I would have chosen. You must know that. It's important you know that.”

“Stop staring at my dick," he growled.Oh, yes it was definitely an illusion. "Barrons loved me staring at his dick,"I informed it. "he would have been happy if I'd stared at his dick all day long, composing odes to its perfection.”

“I want us to be... what is your word? Friends.""Psychotic rapists don't have friends.""I was unaware you were a psychotic rapists or I would not have offered."(Mac & V'lane)”