It was the kind of place you went when your earthly troubles became too much for you and you were looking for a creative way to commit suicide.
I have a serious question." "I will give a serious answer." "Can a god be killed?" The humor drained from Roman's face. "Well, that depends on if you're a pantheist or a Marxist." "What's the difference?" "The first believes that divinity is the universe. The two are synonymous and nonexistent without each other. The second believes in anthropocentrism, seeing man in the center of the universe, and god as just an invention of human conscience. Of course, if you follow Nietzsche, you can kill God just by thinking about him.
Your master plan has holes big enough to drive a truck through.
Living in your dreams meant bitter disappointment when you woke up.
He referred to you as his little snack." "He's a sweetie.
What do you do to your hair?" "Dust, hair gel, and a little gun oil." "Ever thought of patenting the recipe?" "No.
You snore worse. At least I don't turn into a lion in my sleep." "I only did it once." "Once was weird enough, thank you.
You fellows ever thought of hiring out as a Christmas lights crew? You’d make a fortune.
I prefer the term ‘sexual deviant’ myself,” Saiman said.
Would you like to assist me with my choice of underwear as well?” My sarcasm whistled right over his head. “I would be delighted. While I’d love to see you in a balconette bra, I’m afraid for this particular occasion I would have to go with a foam-lined seamless due to the tight fit of the garment across your breasts . . . Perhaps I could come over and review what you have available . . .
Crazy Curran ranked right up there with monsoons, tornadoes, earthquakes, and other natural disasters.
Long strands of drool stretched from between his fangs and dripped on the pavement, sending a heady scent of jasmine to swirl through the air. Perfumed monster spit. What was the world coming to?
You sure you don’t want to kiss me good-bye, baby?
He strained to say something else. I leaned toward him. He focused on me. “Rape,” he promised. “Many, many times. Until you bleed . . .” “I’m so flattered.
Mmmm, Kate, the Chief of Security. Sexy. Who better to guard my body then the woman who owns it?" "Curran, I will punch you.
Who is that?” “Your replacement.” “You replaced me with a shaved poodle?” “He's got mad skills.
I reached over and squeezed Curran’s hand. “Come on, you, me, a platter of barely seared meat, it will be great. If we see the navigators, we can make fun of the way they hold their forks.
Curran and I mixed about as well as glycerin and nitric acid: put us together, shake a bit, and hit the deck as we exploded.
Did I ever tell you that you are like sunshine in the middle of the night?
Had he expected me to hump her leg?
He said, 'Yeah, but will I get chicks? In truckloads?
Screwy," I said. "Is that a medical term?" "Of course.
And I meant to tell you: that was a one-in-a-thousand shot." She raised her hand. "Don't." "It was awesome," George confirmed. "It really was," Jack said. "His head exploded.
The only way to make sure that the Hand didn't get to you would have been to kill your brother. I could've done it, but I didn't. I just gave him some drugs." "You gave an addict in rehab drugs, and you want credit for it?" "Of course it sounds bad when you put it that way.
I did some thinking.” “That is a very dangerous pastime,” Ghastek said.
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