“Well, darling, don't your worry your pretty little head. I've got a type, and you ain't it.”

“For some reason, the despair that's welling up in me is transforming into white-hot rage. I feel it working its way up from my toes, winding around my legs, and burrowing into the pit of my stomach. It spears its razor-sharp tendrils through the pieces of my broken heart. It's crippling, and devastating, and unrelenting. I have only one choice to survive this; I turn that rage outward.”

“With kids, what you see is what you get. There's just truth in their innocence that we as adults have lost and will never regain.”

“Why don’t you tell me your name?” “No.” “Very well. Your rank?” “What would a woman understand of rank?” “What does my sex have to do with my understanding?” “As I have said, women are not warriors.” “Perhaps in your society they aren’t, but in Frewyn we do very well for ourselves.”

“I think he's quite aware , as is everyone here, that you don't need to worm your way into my bed, Miss Raven." He stepped away from her. "You need only crook your finger and I would be ripping your clothes off your body.”

“A perfect person is easy to love. But when somebody likes all your imperfections, well, that's when you know they really mean it.”

“He was all but shouting, stalking toward her. He grabbed her arms and gave her a little shake. "This time, the bastards don't win. I win.""What do you win?" she whispered.He bent his head and crushed his lips to hers.”