“These little discoveries about my blood are coming about as hard and fast as a racehorse kicking me in the nuts and I‟m really starting to get sick of it. I got messed up blood, whoopdedoo! Why don‟t you dump some in a fuel tank and see if it‟ll run a car or maybe give it to a power company and see if they can make a new type of energy from it, I don‟t give a crap! It‟s in me, it ain‟t going anywhere and neither are the vamps that wanna chug it. This is just a slightly different scientific way of saying „I‟m screwed‟”

“Did I just see you two getting into another tussle outside?”“No...we...were...rehearsing a play,” “Really? What‟s it called?” “Fight Club...”

“You know, one of the tiny little perks that comes from having no parents is that you never have to worry about walking in on them...you just took that away from me!”

“I’ll tell you what isn’t; why’d they only go for you? I mean me and Steve might as well have not even been there. They just wanted you.Well, can you blame them? I mean, everyone wants a piece of this sweet ass.”

“So, what's the story?""No story. Just a nightmare.”“Meaning?”“Meaning, heavy compression lines in his cartilage, severe bruising on his kidneys, liver and lower intestines. Fracture marks on his collar bone, tibia, radius, humerus, scapular, femur and every single one of his ribs have been broken. Don't even get me started on the concussive damage to his skull and brain tissue. Twenty-three percent of this boys body is scared for life. And yet, every organ is functioning normally and his neurological activity is above average. He's eighteen years old and he weights about two bills but remove the scar tissue and he'd weigh about a buck-ten. All in all, I say he lived inside a hydraulic car press, went through the Napoleonic wars and was on board the Hindenburg when it went down in flame and yet he's okay...this boy just refuses to die.”

“We’re on a tight leash. We gotta do things by the book so no shooting yourself or trying to blow me up this time.”“I thought we agreed that we weren’t gonna talk about that anymore.”

“Boy, you are outta line!” Joe yelled. “I’m outta line?! You’re screwing a vampire!” “You hypocritical little bastard!” “Yeah, you’re a hypocripical-hypocri-hyp-hyp-hyp, I HATE THAT WORD!”