I guess I should thank you for totally making my morning. It’s not every day a stranger notices my perspiration level.- Dr. Jeri Asher (BLACK MARIAH - A Calling)

— Richard Finney

I’ll find out who’s inside. Wait here and keep alert!’ Halley rasped. He skirted the main path to skulk towards one of the shuttered windows on the building’s eastern wall. There was a crack in the wood and he gently inched closer to peer inside. There was a hearth-fire with a pot bubbling away, and a battered table made of a length of wood over two pieces of cut timber. A small ham hung from the rafters, away from the rats and mice. He couldn’t see anyone but there was a murmur of voices. Halley leaned in even closer and a young boy with hair the color of straw saw the movement to stare. It was Little Jim. Thank God, the child was safe. Snot hung from his nose and he was pale. Halley put a finger to his lips, but the boy, not even four, did not understand, and just gaped innocently back. Movement near the window. A man wearing a blue jacket took up a stone bottle and wiped his long flowing mustache afterward. His hair was shoulder-length, falling unruly over the red collar of his jacket. Tied around his neck was a filthy red neckerchief. A woman moaned, and the man grinned with tobacco stained teeth at the sound. Laughter and French voices. The woman whimpered, and Little Jim turned to watch unseen figures. His eyes glistened and his bottom lip dropped. The woman began to plead and Halley instinctively growled. The Frenchman, hearing the noise, pushed the shutter open and the pistol’s cold muzzle pressed against his forehead. Halley watched the man’s eyes narrow and then widen, before his mouth opened. Whatever he intended to shout was never heard, because the ball smashed through his skull to erupt in a bloody spray as it exited the back of the Frenchman’s head. There was a brief moment of silence. ‘28th!’ Halley shouted, as he stepped back against the wall. ‘Make ready!

— David Cook

I’m now requesting you refrain from calling me this early in the morning, before I’ve had a chance to steel my defenses against hearing you utter the word ‘lizard.’”-- spoken by Dr. Jeri Sheer... to Chris Dixon.

— Richard Finney

In Paris, everything was fixable for the right price.

— Peggy Kopman-Owens

In the moments between bullets, those in foxholes regain their vision. They get to count the dead, feel for holes. Pain creeps through a sluice of calm.

— Chris DiCroce

I play to win and if it looks like I've lost, its only because It's not over yet.

— Kiera Dellacroix

I think best on two wheels

— Kenneth L. Decroo

It's a lot like the Wild West out here... just with tea shops instead of saloons. Wild West Sahara, that is.

— T.K. Naliaka

I used to think that when people fell in love, they just landed where they landed, and they had no choice in the matter afterward. And maybe that’s true of beginnings, but it’s not true of this, now. I fell in love with him. But I don’t just stay with him by default as if there’s no one else available to me. I stay with him because I choose to, every day that I wake up, every day that we fight or lie to each other or disappoint each other. I choose him over and over again, and he chooses me.

— Veronica Roth

I was always taught to write the book you want to read. It's a philosophy I haven't wavered from since.

— E.A. de Graaf