“Nora— Forgive me for copyediting, but it must be said—you have raped the semicolon yet again. Stop it. It wasn’t asking for it no matter how it was dressed. If you don’t know how to use punctuation then do away with it altogether, write like Faulkner and we’ll pretend it’s on purpose.”Bite me, Easton, Nora said to herself as she corrected her sexually compromised semicolon in chapter eighteen. Seriously, bite me.”

“I know you want to fuck me. And I know you wish you didn’t. So how about we compromise and you can sit here and say, ‘No, Nora,’ ‘Don’t, Nora,’ ‘Stop, Nora,’ and I’ll ignore all those protests and slide right down on your cock anyway? And I’ll do it because no and don’t and stop aren’t your safe word. So you can finally get fucked and still sleep like a baby in your big lonely bed tonight feeling all clean and shiny and virginal because, after all, you did say ‘no’ and that awful Nora Sutherlin just wouldn’t listen.”

“In our world," Darija said, throwing aside the chapter she was marking up, "there will be no semicolons.”

“Ivy turned. 'He bit you on the neck?' she said, deadpan serious but for her eyes. 'Oh, then it's got to be love. She won't let me bite her neck.”

“One little temper tantrum isn’t going to scare me away.”“I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again.”“I work every day with cantankerous beasts who growl and bite, when I’m only trying to help. I think I can handle you.”“I’d like to see you handle me,” he said, eyeing her up and down. She ignored the double entendre, but she was pretty sure he wasn’t sizing her up as an adversary on the tae kwan do mat. She put a hand to her stomach, which was doing a strange flip-flop. “Don’t think I couldn’t take you down,” she said seriously. “I’ve trained in the martial arts.”He smirked. “That I’ve got to see.”

“James Joyce married a woman named Nora Barnacle. She once said to him, ‘Why don’t you write books people can read?”