Chick Quotes

I love books, by the way, way more than movies. Movies tell you what to think. A good book lets you choose a few thoughts for yourself. Movies show you the pink house. A good book tells you there's a pink house and lets you paint some of the finishing touches, maybe choose the roof style,park your own car out front. My imagination has always topped anything a movie could come up with. Case in point, those darned Harry Potter movies. That was so not what that part-Veela-chick, Fleur Delacour, looked like.

You should date a girl who reads. Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes, who has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve. Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she has found the book she wants. You see that weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a secondhand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow and worn. She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book. Buy her another cup of coffee. Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice. It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas, for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry and in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does. She has to give it a shot somehow. Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world. Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who read understand that all things must come to end, but that you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two. Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series. If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are. You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype. You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots. Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads. Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

Ladies, let me give you some advice. You can throw all your stupid fucking chick-lit, self-help, why-doesn't-he-love-me books out, because this is all you need to know: Men will treat you the way you let them. There is no such thing as "deserving" respect; you get what you demand from people.. if you demand respect, he will either respect you or he won't associate with you. It really is that simple.

Oh, so you see some chick in baggy jeans and a hoodie, and you just have to have her so bad, you decide to repeat high school, just to get her?" "Sounds about right." He laughs.

I feel like Cinderella sitting in the middle of the road with a pumpkin and a couple of mice, while Prince Charming charges off to rescue some other chick.

Your grandmother used to say that you were two souls separated in heaven. She mainly meant you were both trouble and deserved each other.

It’s simple guy logic: If a woman is angry? It means she cares. If you’re in a relationship and a chick can’t even be bothered to yell at you? You’re screwed. Indifference is a woman’s kiss of death. It’s the equivalent of a man not interested in sex. In either case—it’s over. You’re done.

There is a proverbial saying chiefly concerned with warning against too closely calculating the numerical value of un-hatched chicks.

It was like the Justice League of Super Heroes but instead it was the Justice League of Hot Guys.

I'm protecting what's mine." ... "I'm not yours," I said. "You're welcome to think that but it doesn't change the fact that you are.

Hector? You call him Hector?” “Well, I can hardly call out, ‘Agent Chavez, oo Agent Chavez,’ When he makes me climax, now can I?

I'm a quirky, intelligent, dark haired chick!   Me, me, me, pick me!   And who the hell keeps whining and ruining my perfect moment?   I will cut a bitch.

I figured the Nightingale Investigations job application form had the question "Are you hot? Yes. No. If you answered no, please exit the building.

The time for crying with your girlfriends about a broken heart is over chocolate ice cream and chick flicks—not stun guns and bulletproof vests.

Dude, you ran off with the crazy chick! You ran off with the psycho girl!" he's calling after Adam. "I thought they made that shit up. What the hell were you thinking? What are you going to do with the psycho chick? No wonder Warner wants you dead - OW, MAN, what the hell - " "She's not crazy. And she's not deaf, asshole.

So, now you’re getting shot at, you’re gonna leave me?” “Girlie, I’m from Texas. We shoot at each other to say good morning.

I haven’t been avoiding you,” “You’re lying. The last time we were both at dinner, you got up in the middle of Mom’s fajita presentation and said you forgot to feed your cat.” Uh-oh. “So?” “You don’t have a cat.

The staircase that was revealed was lit with a soft red glow. I feel like I'm walking down into a porn movie," V muttered as they took the steps with care. Wouldn't that require more black candles for you," Zsadist cracked. At the bottom of the landing, they looked left and right down a corridor carved out of stone, seeing row after row of...black candles with ruby color flames. I take that back," Z said, eyeing the display. We start hearing chick-a-wow-wow shit," V cut in, "can I start calling you Z-packed?" Not if you want to keep breathing.

I'm just messing with you guys. I like seeing psycho chick get all intense." He glances at me, lowers his voice. "I mean that as a compliment--because, you know"--he waves a haphazard hand in my direction--"psycho kind of works for you.

I went to school in drag, in art school and my day was completely different because everybody thought I was a chick. You should see me as a chick. So I went as a girl, as like an experiment and it worked really well and everyone was really nice to me but I couldn't talk obviously...you know train conductors were really cool to me on my commute...HA! I looked hot as a chick!

I can’t be the star in your sky when you’re the only star left shining in mine.

Tucker: I'm glad it happened. because then I got to know who you really are. Clara: Oh yeah? Who am I? Tucker: A really, really spiritual, spoiled California chick. Avery: Shut up. Tucker: It's cool though. My girlfriend is an angel.

Listen to you sounding all badass. I bet you're just listening to a CD called 'The Sounds of Crime' while you cruise for chicks outside the Old Navy in your Camaro.

He isn't my man." "Girl, it don't matter you don't think he is, he thinks he is. Therefore in Badass Motherfucker Land, that means he is.

On Undecided Voter​s: "To put them in perspective, I think​ of being​ on an airplane.​ The flight attendant comes​ down the aisle​ with her food cart and, eventually,​ parks​ it beside my seat.​ “Can I inter​est you in the chick​en?​” she asks.​ “Or would​ you prefer the platter of shit with bits of broke​n glass​ in it?” To be undecided in this elect​ion is to pause​ for a moment and then ask how the chick​en is cooked.

Maybe we should have this conversation in an alternate universe where Alternate Indy gives a shit what Alternate Lee wants her to wear.

You are such a chick.” I widened my eyes in mock surprise. “No way. Are you sure?

Where am I and doing what? You might well ask. Freaky chick, you say? You can't imagine. I am priestess of a sandcastle in a land of dust and starlight.

It looked like GQ was having a convention and all the best looking guys had decided to have a coffee at Fortnum's before going to seminars on how to cope with being really, unbelivably, fucking gorgeous

Jesus Christ," he muttered to the ceiling. "All those times I sat in the office and laughed my ass off at stories of Lee, Eddie, Hank and Vance. They should have fuckin' medals.

Chicks before dicks, and all that.

Swear to God, these boys should be locked up. It isn’t safe, men with that much testosterone coursing through tier blood free to roam.

I don’t get a taste of you soon, I’m givin’ up the search and takin’ you to my cabin in Grand Lake. No phones, no cell coverage, no buzzer. Anyone knocks on the door and I’m shooting them.

Where I grew up, women’s liberation was when you let a chick out of her cage for 15 minutes so she could stretch her legs.

You want to marry me?” “No. I’m gonna marry you.

How did Terrible Teddy’s face get like that?” “Me.” “You hit him?” “He touched you, you said it hurt. I found him and beat the shit out of him.” Oh… my… God.

Blessed art thou among women.” Who can’t relate to a line like that? It’s just saying you’re one holy chick and everyone, even God, is totally into you.

If it’s just you sharing your feelings, perhaps you can voice it less like an order,” I suggested. “I’m used to giving orders and if it sounds like one then there’s always a chance you’ll obey.

Lee, you’re gonna have to get over this jealous-possessiveness thing.” “Indy, you’re gonna have to get used to the fact that I’m the jealous-possessive type.

I loved being in my own head so much, it was getting harder and harder being with other people.

Why do I always sound like the chick in this relationship?

You were always mine. -Black

Where I grew up, women’s liberation was when you let a chick out of her cage so she could stretch her legs for 15 minutes.

Any one of those boys wanted to push me around, I’d say bring it on. Hell, I’d pay for one of ‘em to move into my house. They don’t even have to do me; just walk around so I can watch. Maybe in a towel.

This isn’t a good idea,” I whispered, watching his lips come toward me. “This is a fucking great idea,” he muttered. Then he kissed me.

And for fuck’s sake, stop saying fuck!

Ally placed her hands over her ears and changed, “La-la-la, not-listening-to-the-story-of-my-brother-proposing-while-doing-the-nasty-one-more-time, la-la-la.

Did-a-chick? Dum-a-chum? Dad-a-cham? Ded-a-chek?

Do you always wear underwear like this, or is it for me?” I rolled to my back and pulled the sheet to my waist. “It isn’t for you, I’ve been wearing underwear like this since Gram gave me my first Frederick’s of Hollywood box on my sixteenth birthday. Now, I owe Victoria’s Secret my first-born child.” Before speaking again, Lee waited several seconds that can only be described as ‘loaded silence’. While this silence was going on, he pulled the sheet back down. “You’re tellin’ me that since you were sixteen you’ve been sittin’ next to me every year at Christmas Dinner wearin’ underwear like this?

While an elderly man in his mid-eighties looks curiously at a porno site, his grandson asks him from afar, “‘What are you reading, grandpa?’” “‘It’s history, my boy.’” “The grandson comes nearer and exclaims, “‘But this is a porno site, grandpa, naked chicks, sex . . . a lot of sex!’” “‘Well, it’s sex for you, my son, but for me it’s history,’ the old man says with a sigh.” All of people in the cabin burst into laughter. “A stale joke, but a cool one,” added William More, the man who just told the joke. The navigator skillfully guided the flying disc among the dense orange-yellow blanket of clouds in the upper atmosphere that they had just entered. Some of the clouds were touched with a brownish hue at the edges. The rest of the pilots gazed curiously and intently outwards while taking their seats. The flying saucer descended slowly, the navigator’s actions exhibiting confidence. He glanced over at the readings on the monitors below the transparent console: Atmosphere: Dense, 370 miles thick, 98.4% nitrogen, 1.4% methane Temperature on the surface: ‒179°C / ‒290°F Density: 1.88 g/cm³ Gravity: 86% of Earth’s Diameter of the cosmic body: 3200 miles / 5150 km.

You're looking at that chick like you want to roll her up in a taco and put your hot sauce all over her.

Before I moved here, I never got the whole love-triangle thing. You know, in movies or romance novels or whatnot, where there’s one chick that all the guys are drooling over, even though you can’t see anything particularly special about her. But oh, no, they both must have her. And she’s like, oh dear, however will I choose? William is so sensitive, he understands me, he swept me off my feet, oh misery, blubber, blubber, but how can I go on living without Rafe and his devil-may-care ways and his dark and only-a-little-abusive love? Upchuck.

I’d pay a man to talk to me that way.

All I can say is, she's the one I think about. All the time. She's the voice I want to hear. She's the face I hope to see. - Sam Roxton

I'm not stupid, I know your heart's involved in this and I've never, not once in all the time you've known me, given you the idea that I won't handle it with care.

The phone at my ass started ringing, I leaned forward and pulled it out. “Don’t answer that,” Noah ordered. “Fuck you,” I shot back, saw the display said “Luke calling” and flipped it open. “Yo.” “Babe,” Luke replied. “I’ve been kidnapped again,” I informed him. “I know. I’m following.

I texted Kaidan, who was listed in my contacts under “James,” for James Bond. He’d chosen it. He had me listed as “Hot Chick From Gig.” Video chat in 30. His immediate response made me shake my head. Clothing optional? It was nice to know he could keep a sense of humor in the face of calamity. Or maybe he wasn’t joking... “Are you two flirting?” Patti asked, her eyes darting to me from the road. I blushed and deleted his message.

It isn't that it's too soon, you're on the back of my bike, it ain't too soon. You can buy sheets. You cannot install blinds." "um..." I mumbled. "Can you explain the difference?" "Sheets are chick territory," he said without delay. "You gotta use tools, that's dick territory." "Oh," I whispered. "Don't tread on dick territory," he advised. "So, um... is a paintbrush a tool?" I asked cautiously. "If you're paintin' the side of the house, yeah. If you're painting mud colored paint in a room, no." "It's terracotta," I said softly. "Whatever," he muttered, his mouth twitching. "Or, the paint chip called it Mexican horizon. The blue is dawn sky." "Definitely chick territory," Tate replied, losing the fight with his grin. "What about...pictures for the walls?" I asked. "Chick," he answered instantly. "Um...could I ask that, instead of you getting angry and being a jerk, maybe you give me a head's up when I'm doing something stupid?

Life Lessons According to Camryn: One must handle stress like a dog; if you can't eat it or play with it, pee on it and walk away

No matter what,” he said, his voice fierce and strong and rumbling through me. “You told me I was home to you and I get it. You’re home to me. I’ve never had a home. I like the one I found and I’m not losin’ it. No matter what.

Son, let me tell you something. Even if you don't care, pretend you do. Honestly, it's the best way to go," Dad, the voice of experience, decided to wade in. "She talks about toss pillows. You don't care about toss pillows. You don't even know what toss pillows are. Pretend that toss pillows are your highest priority in life.

I have a head for business and a body for sin. Unfortunately, the sin appears to be gluttony.

Ava, you missed it when it happened so I’ll clue you in. Last night, around the time you fell asleep against me, you became mine.

I hate you,” I declared. “You don’t.” “I do.” “Okay, maybe whoever this new Ava is does but she’s a bitch and I don’t give a fuck if she hates me. The old Ava doesn’t hate me and she’s in there somewhere, I saw her five minutes ago and that’s who I'm keeping safe.

What's important is that you stay true to yourself. Because when you enter the real world, the most valuable thing you can bring is all your you-ness. The world doesn't need any more hot chicks or tough guys or smooth talkers - the world needs more you. And don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

Sometimes I forget how much I like riding the bike." Most chicks do," I said. "Roar of the engine and so on." Murphy's blue eyes glittered with annoyance and anticipation. "Pig. You really enjoy dropping all women together in the same demographic, don't you?" It's not my fault all women like motorcycles, Murph. They're basically huge vibrators. With wheels.

You’ve been mine since you were eight.

She was my mother. I couldn't threaten to slap, stab, beat or even name call her. I tried to think of something to scare her into never mentioning the predicament with the Dreamsnatcher again. I'll become a swinger," I said. her eyes bugged. Uptight rearing made her uncomfortable with alternate lifestyles. "That's right. threesomes, foursomes, and more. bones knows about a thousand chicks who'd love to hop into bed with us. It'll be kinky, we'll get out freak on.-

Jesus, you think you’re fuckin’ Catwoman”, he muttered. “I do not. Catwoman wore a leotard and stupid ears and fake claws. That’s just silly.

I turned to Eddie. "Okay, I've never done this. This is the guy's department. What do I do? We need to get Lee's size and we need industrial strength. Show me which ones to buy." Eddie looked at the display and looked to me. "You're askin' me to help you buy condoms for Lee?" " Industrial strength condoms," I reminded him. Eddie stared at me like he was re-thinking his crush on me. "okay," I said, trying to be helpful, "we'll break it down. We'll start with the size." He shook his head. "First, I'm a little worried you're lookin' to me to tell you Lee's size. Lee es mi hermano , but we aren't that close. Second, they don't come in sizes.

They say, if you care about something, you have to set it free and if it comes back to you, it was meant to be." "They're full of shit." Obviously, I failed spectacularly at being philosophical.

Because, no matter how old we get, we always need to believe in fairytales.

She nodded, grabbed her purse out of the drawer and skedaddled, walking like she was on a catwalk, one foot in front of the other, her ass swaying under the skirt of her expensive, tailored suit. Bitch. I thought again, watching her go. “No comparison,” Luke said after the door closed behind Dawn and I turned to him. “Excuse me?” “Dawn’s a man eater. You’re not. No comparison,” Luke answered and I didn’t know how to take that. “Is that good?” The half-smile came back. “Most men prefer to do the eating.” Holy fucking cow.

So what are you gonna say at my funeral, now that you've killed me? Here lies the body of the love of my life, whose heart I broke without a gun to my head. Here lies the mother of my children, both living and dead. Rest in peace, my true love, who I took for granted. Most bomb p*ssy who, because of me, sleep evaded. Her god listening. Her heaven will be a love without betrayal. Ashes to ashes, dust to side chicks.

It contributes greatly towards a man's moral and intellectual health, to be brought into habits of companionship with individuals unlike himself, who care little for his pursuits, and whose sphere and abilities he must go out of himself to appreciate.

At the sight and realisation that I was sleeping next to a naked Liam Nightingale, I’m not embarrassed to admit, I think I had a mini-orgasm

Liar. You've loved me since I held your hand at your mother's memorial service when you were five years old.

I think we should break up,” I told him. “Jesus, you’re a pain in the ass,” he muttered and went back to his book. “Seriously, Vance.” “Shut up, Jules,” he said without taking his eyes from his book.

Soooo," Arriane said. "Now you've met Randy." "I thought his name was Cam." "We're not talking about him," Arriane said quickly. "I mean the she-man in there." Arriane jerked her head toward the office where they'd left the attendant in front of the TV. "Whaddya think-dude or chick?" "Uh, chick?" Luce said tentativley. "Is this a test?" Arriane cracked a smile. "The first of many. And you passed. At least, I think you passed. The gender of most of the faculty here is an ongoing, schoolwiide debate. Don't worry, you'll get into it.

For what it’s worth, I’ll share my intentions. You and me, we aren’t practice for the real thing. It isn’t that too much is at stake with family and friends, it’s because I love you. You’re funny, beautiful and you care about people. I like the way you look at me, especially when you think I don’t notice it. I like that we have history and our kids will have a big family and share that history because there was never a time when their Mom and Dad weren’t together. If you were a terrible lay, I might have second thoughts but you and I are dynamite together. I intend to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you. If that freaks you out, tough, because now we’ve started this, there’s no goin’ back.

I do this thing for Rosie, you sleep with me" I stared at him, open-mouthed and in stunned silence. I did, of course, understand what he meant but he explained further. "Not like last night, we'll both be naked and sexual acts will be performed." My expression didn't change except maybe my mouth opened wider. "I'll expect your participation." Holly shit. "Your avid participation." Dear Lord in Heaven. Eventually, I whispered, "You must be joking." He shook his head and watched me. I dropped my eyes, unable to hold his stqare. "I think I need more coffee," I told his throat.

Jeez, we haven’t even slept together and already you don’t trust me.” “I’ve known you all your life not to mention the fact that my idiot sister is in the next room and when you two get together it’s like Laurel and Hardy do Denver.

I would have done anything for him. But these days, I don't want to do anything. I don't want to get drunk or go to a wild party or make out with random boys-not that I've ever wanted to. I don't want to watch chick flicks or eat ice cream or get a haircut or buy out half of the mall. I don't want cold, cruel revenge. I don't want to see him suffer when karma catches up with him and kick his ass. I don't even want to talk to him right now, simply because it would be awkward and pathetic and I wouldn't know what to say to him. Yes, there is self-control, preventing me from being stupid and acting like a desperate doofus in the manner most heartbroken people do. But there is also a weary numbness threatening to consume every inch of me: Isn't there a way for me to skip straight to the part where I'm fine again?

Gideon laughed. "I like to be direct." "Okay," I said. "But I warn you, I like to be evasive, inserutable and generally send mixed messages." "I doubt it." "Human interaction is not my strong point," I told him. "Not seriously." "Seriously," I said. Thinking: There is so much about me he doesn't know. Gideon put his hand on my leg. "What's your strong point, then?" "Goats," I told him. "I am excellent with goats.

My futon was a fancy one with armrests and everything. It was a pain in the ass to get open because it weighed a ton. I figured I’d make the bed when Luke got back. He’d probably be able to pull it out by glaring at it.

Jesus," he buried his face in my neck. "There's nothin' better in the world than hearing you say my name when I'm inside you." He slid in deeper, filling me. "I've been waiting years to be right here.

Please stop patronizing those who are reading a book - The Da Vinci Code, maybe- because they are enjoying it. For a start, none of us know what kind of an effort this represents for the individual reader. It could be his or her first full-length adult novel; it might be the book that finally reveals the purpose and joy of reading to someone who has hitherto been mystified by the attraction books exert on others. And anyway, reading for enjoyment is what we should all be doing. I don't mean we should all be reading chick lit or thrillers (although if that's what you want to read, it's fine by me, because here's something no one else will tell you: if you don't read the classics, or the novel that won this year's Booker Prize, then nothing bad will happen to you; more importantly,nothing good will happen to you if you do); I simply mean that turning pages should not be like walking through thick mud. The whole purpose of books is that we read them, and if you find you can't, it might not be your inadequacy that's to blame. "Good" books can be pretty awful sometimes.

Daisy said to me that I was trying to find ways to protect my heart but I was doing it wrong. She told me the best way to protect my heart was to trust it to someone who will protect it for me. More silence but his body went completely still. “That’s you. It’s always been you.

I don’t put up with the shit you’ve handed me the last week because you’re some fuckin’ piece I want to conquer. I put up with it because I’ve liked you since you were eight years old. You made me laugh. You understood me. You looked out for me when no one else fuckin’ bothered and you acted like you thought I could move mountains and I needed someone who thought that about me because my Dad sure as fuck didn’t.

If you ever think of takin’ off, if you ever get scared enough at what I do for a living that you decide you can’t hack it, then you best think again because unless what we have turns shit like everything else in my life, I’m not ever letting you go.

You have two choices,” Vance said. I stopped in the doorway to the hall and put my hands on my hips. “And those would be?” I asked. “We can talk or we can f**k.” My eyes rounded. Then they narrowed. I didn’t answer. “Though,” he went on, “I should tell you even if you pick talking, after we’re done, we’re still gonna f**k.” I frowned at him and leaned in. “You are too much,” I snapped. He ignored my threatening posture. “You don’t chose, I will, and I’ll pick f**king. We can talk after.

If someone like you, someone as unbelievably beautiful as you, as crazy and sweet as you, filled with attitude and courage with her heart in the right place, in a lot of right places even though her head normally isn’t… if someone like you shares her bed with me, then that says something about me.

Okay, I’ve never done this. This is the guy’s department. What do I do? We need to get Lee’s size and we need industrial strength. Show me which ones to buy.” Eddie looked at the display and looked at me. “You’re askin’ me to help you buy condoms for Lee?” “Industrial strength condoms,” I reminded him. ... “Let me get this straight,” he said and I could tell he was laughing, “you dragged Eddie to Walgreen’s to help pick out condoms for me?” “Well, I didn’t know!”… “Did you tell Eddie the part about long-lasting reliability?” Oh Lord. “Forget it,” I said. “Indy?” he called. “What?” I snapped, kinda pissy. “I love you.” He still had laughter in his voice and there was something very cool about him laughing and saying I love you at the same time.

They’re on Lee and Indy Sex Watch.” “Come again?” “They want to know when we’ve done it.” Silence. I went on. “If we don’t do it soon, they might force us to at gunpoint.” “Christ.” “I know. No pressure though. I told them we’re taking is slow.” “You have to report in?” “I kind of feel obliged.” “How’s that?” I didn’t want to tell him I’d recruited them both for Lee Maneuvres in the past, so I said, “Never mind.” “If something doesn’t happen soon, it’s gonna be bad. I can’t keep focussed, all I can think of is what’s on your Victoria’s Secret credit statement. “You need to keep focused,” I told him, “bad guys are after me.” “Tell me about it.

She's Awakening,' Aiden said, voice tight. 'But the blood...' I heard Marcus move closer. 'Why is she bleeding?' I eased onto my side. 'I'm being tattooed by a giant, mother fu-' Another strangled scream cut of my words as a different type of pain settled in, moving under my skin. It was like lighting racing through my veins, frying every nerve ending. 'This is... wow,' Deacon said, and I pried my eyes open. There was a whole audience by the door. 'Get them out of here!' I screamed, jackknifing on the floor. 'Gods, this sucks!' 'Whoa,' I heard Deacon murmur. 'This is like watching a chick give birth or something.' 'Oh my gods, I'm going to kill him.' I could feel the beads of blood breaking out under my jeans. 'I'm going to punch him-' 'Everyone leave,' Aiden ground out. 'This isn't a godsdamn show.' 'And I think he's like the father,' Luke said. Aiden rose to his feet. 'Get. Out.

Later,” I said to the room at large as I didn’t want to appear rude. For some reason this was met by Shirleen saying, "I’ll put money down that she’s living with him in four days.” My confused gaze swung to Shirleen but she was looking at the movie star glamour girl who was looking at me. “Three days,” Glamour girl said, smiling at me and I thought, in other circumstances, I would have liked to meet her. “A week, she’s got spirit,” The other black lady said. She was smiling at me too, not like I was the butt of some joke, but in a kind way. I opened the outer door. Before it closed behind me, I heard Luke say strangely, “Tonight.” Then everyone laughed.

Christ, don't go to the Haunted Houses with Ally and Indy. A few years ago, Indy went berserk and broke through the hay bales they had set up to make the haunted trail and headed into the cornfields. All the employees chased after her but since they were dressed like monsters, Indy lost her mind. They had to call the cops to settle her down." I lost him at "cornfields". "Cornfields?" I whispered. "Yeah." "They have a haunted trail through cornfields?" "Yeah, up in Thornton. Best Haunted House in Denver. Indy and Ally go every year. Why?" "Cornfields freak me out," I admitted. Hank was silent. Then, he said, "You're from Indiana. How in the fuck can cornfields freak you out?" "Cornfields don't freak me out. Cornfields at night freak me out. Haunted cornfields at night freak me out." "You been to many haunted cornfields?" "Dude," I said low. "All cornfields are haunted. Trust me. I know... They whisper to you.

Then I said, “Matt’s got a big mouth.” “They all got big mouths, girl, learn that quick. These boys talk more than a pack of women. I lost fifty bucks on you.” I was stunned speechless again, this time it didn’t last as long. “What?” “See, Lee nailed Indy the first night they were together. Not nailed her nailed her but she was in his bed. Eddie, with Jet, it took a few days. Hank and Roxie, like, a day. Vance, like three, but Jules was a virgin and he had to interrupt the festivities once to go out and shoot someone.” I was blinking rapidly and feeling kind of faint at the amount and sensitivity of information Shirleen was imparting, not to mention what it might mean to me. “So we had a pool. Everyone threw down money on when they thought Luke would nail you. Mace won five hundred dollars.” Ho-ly crap. “So,” she went on. “Did he nail you nail you or did you two just sleep?” For some reason, I answered her unbelievably nosy question. “We just slept.” “New pool!” she shouted.

This is the underside of my world. Of course you don’t want me to be stupid, bless you! you only want to make sure you’re intelligent. You don’t want me to commit suicide; you only want me to be gratefully aware of my dependency. You don’t want me to despise myself; you only want the flattering deference to you that you consider a spontaneous tribute to your natural qualities. You don’t want me to lose my soul; you only want what everybody wants, things to go your way; you want a devoted helpmeet, a self-sacrificing mother, a hot chick, a darling daughter, women to look at, women to laugh at, women to come for comfort, women to wash your floors and buy your groceries and cook your food and keep your children out of your hair, to work when you need the money and stay home when you don’t, women to be enemies when you want a good fight, women who are sexy when you want a good lay, women who don’t complain, women who don’t nag or push, women who don’t hate you really, women who know their job and above all—women who lose. On top of it all, you sincerely require me to be happy; you are naively puzzled that I should be wretched and so full of venom in this the best of all possible worlds. Whatever can be the matter with me? But the mode is more than a little outworn. As my mother once said: the boys throw stones at the frogs in jest. But the frogs die in earnest.

The greatest mystery the universe offers is not life but size. Size encompasses life, and the Tower encompasses size. The child, who is most at home with wonder, says: Daddy, what is above the sky? And the father says: The darkness of space. The child: What is beyond space? The father: The galaxy. The child: Beyond the galaxy? The father: Another galaxy. The child: Beyond the other galaxies? The father: No one knows. You see? Size defeats us. For the fish, the lake in which he lives is the universe. What does the fish think when he is jerked up by the mouth through the silver limits of existence and into a new universe where the air drowns him and the light is blue madness? Where huge bipeds with no gills stuff it into a suffocating box and cover it with wet weeds to die? Or one might take the tip of the pencil and magnify it. One reaches the point where a stunning realization strikes home: The pencil tip is not solid; it is composed of atoms which whirl and revolve like a trillion demon planets. What seems solid to us is actually only a loose net held together by gravity. Viewed at their actual size, the distances between these atoms might become league, gulfs, aeons. The atoms themselves are composed of nuclei and revolving protons and electrons. One may step down further to subatomic particles. And then to what? Tachyons? Nothing? Of course not. Everything in the universe denies nothing; to suggest an ending is the one absurdity. If you fell outward to the limit of the universe, would you find a board fence and signs reading DEAD END? No. You might find something hard and rounded, as the chick must see the egg from the inside. And if you should peck through the shell (or find a door), what great and torrential light might shine through your opening at the end of space? Might you look through and discover our entire universe is but part of one atom on a blade of grass? Might you be forced to think that by burning a twig you incinerate an eternity of eternities? That existence rises not to one infinite but to an infinity of them?