Juliet had it easy; she never had to kill Romeo.
I'm really not good with impulse control.
If I let myself love you, I won't throw myself in front of her. I'll throw myself in front of you.
And than suddenly he was there, charging down the hallway like death in a cowboy duster.
The battle cry sort of gave you away. Try not to yell next time.
Oh, so that's why you're up here. For a pity party." "This isn't a joke. I'm serious." I could tell Lissa was getting angry. It was trumping her earlier distress. He shrugged and leaned casually against the sloping wall. "So am I. I love pity parties. I wish I'd brought the hats. What do you want to mope about first? How it's going to take you a whole day to be popular and loved again? How you'll have to wait a couple weeks before Hollister can ship out some new clothes? If you spring for rush shipping, it might not be so long.
Whoa, Dimitri," I said, tossing my bag on the floor. "I realize this is actually a current hit in Eastern Europe right now, but do you think we could maybe listen to something that wasn't recorded before I was born?” Only his eyes flicked toward me; the rest of his posture remained the same. "What does it matter to you? I'm the one who's going to be listening to it. You'll be outside running.
I look him in the eye. "I will always love you.
Dimitri: "Were you really going to attack all of us? Doing that...protecting her like that - it was very brave. Stupid, but still brave. Why did you even try it?" Rose: "Because I'm her guardian."
Hey Mason, wipe that drool off you face. If you're going to think about me naked, do it on your own time. -Rose to Mason
I’d said it before and meant it: Alive or undead, the love of my life was a badass.
I set off, off to kill the man I love.
You can't fool me, comrade. You want to put on a cowboy hat and keep lawless bank robbers in line.'' "No time. I have enough trouble keeping you in line.
That's what I was supposed to say.
None of the bravado he usually showed was there. I guess there was "usually" and then there was being held in the grip of a really ripped, really tall, and really pissed off Russian guy.
Hey Mason, wipe the drool off your face. If you're going to think about me naked, do it on your own time." [...] "This is my time, Hathaway. I'm leading today's session." "Oh yeah?" I retorted. "Huh. Well, I guess this is a good time to think about me naked, then." "It's always a good a time to think about you naked," added someone nearby, breaking the tension further.
Oh God," I said. "I'm Zmey's daughter. Zmey junior. Zmeyette, even.
The answer came to me before I'd even finished asking myself the question. I couldn't be Mason's girlfriend because when I imagined someone holding me and whispering dirty things in my ear, he had a Russian accent.
I've given up on you...Love fades. Mine has.
My cigarettes and I are going outside. At least they show me respect.
He flipped the dail, and I crossed my arms over my chest as some vaguely European-sounding band sang about how video had killed the radio star. I wished someone would kill this radio.
When I saw you fall..." "You thought, 'Wow, she's a loser.
When it comes to Iran and ISIS, the enemy of your enemy is your enemy!
Don't worry, little dhampir. You might be surrounded by clouds, but you'll always be like sunshine to me.
You're strong—you're so, so strong. It's why I love you.
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