“Like my father always said to me, if you ever pull a weapon on somebody – no matter what it is – you’ve got to be fully prepared to use it, because if you’re not, the other guy will see the doubt in your eyes, and he’ll take it off you and use it on you instead. Then you’re really in trouble.”

“You always look so cool, like no matter what happens, it’s got nothing to do with you, but you’re not really like that. In your own way, you’re out there fighting as hard as you can, even if other people can’t tell by looking at you.”

“You’re better off fighting hand to hand than wielding a weapon you don’t know how to use. A skilled opponent would simply disarm you. Then your troubles would be doubled. Not only would you be under attack, but you’d have to counter your own weapon”

“You’re not a whore. You’re a chick who hasn’t exactly grown up with every advantage, and you’ve learned to use what you’ve got. You don’t do it on purpose. It’s second nature. You act girly and helpless and make men think you’re harmless.”

“As my father always used to tell me, 'You see, son, there's always someone in the world worse off than you.' And I always used to think, 'So?”

“You wanted to lick my face the first time you saw me? Is that usually what you do when you’re attracted to guys?” I shake my head. “Not your face, your dimple. And no. You’re the only guy I’ve ever had the urge to lick.” He smiles at me confidently. “Good. Because you’re the only girl I’ve ever had the urge to love.”