Rachel Vincent Quotes
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Meow, Meow, Motherfucker.
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Chocolate says "I'm sorry" so much better than words.
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He sank into that kiss, and fed from me like a starving man holding off famine. I drank from his soul in preparation for the drought to come. And when he finally pulled away, my throat was thick with unspoken words, my heart heavy with every apology I'd ever denied him. But it was too late for promises. The time had come for goodbye.
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Apparently the complete works of Shakespeare packed quite a wallop. To think, my mother said I'd never find use for an English degree. Ha! I'd like to see her knock someone silly with an apron and a cookie press.
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"Hey, do you wanna go out for..." His words melted with a sigh when he noticed Tod, but then he rallied with a smile. "Hi, Tod, I didn't realise you were here. In my daughter's bedroom. With the door closed." "Happy to be here," Tod said, and I groaned out loud.
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Together, we'd take crazy to a whole new level. ~Tod
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I mean, creatures who only exist in the dark don't know they're missing the sun, right? But once you've seen the sun. Once you've seen it light up the world ... once you've felt its heat all around you ... inside you ..." He clutched his own chest, and my heart cracked open. "Its hard to live in the dark after the sun dies.
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My shirt got torn in a fight. Yours evidently has a fast-release tab.
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How long can you keep me invisible?" "As long as were in physical contact." My throat felt dry. "Holding hands?" That's how we'd done it last time. "Unless you had something else in mind?
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We would not have hurt the child, even if she is our natural enemy. Nor would we have hurt you, if it could be helped. Finn was killed by a male cat, and in exchange for that information, we also agreed to try to remove the female cats from your encampment before the true melee begins.” Melee?! Were these ninja birds? Green Berets with feathers?
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Is that a joke? Please tell me you're joking. -Sophie I never joke about carnivorous bunnies. -Luca
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Vanity, right?" Nash reappeared in the living room with an open bag of potato chips. "I nominate my venerable brother. He likes to play hero, and one look at him should establish the vanity angle." "Nash!" I really shouldn't have been surprised by the dig. But I was. "What?" He raised one brow at me in challenge. "It's okay to call me jealous, but not to call him vain?" "Awareness of one's obvious advantages doesn't imply vanity," Tod insisted calmly. Nash turned on him. "Does it imply narcissism?" Tod huffed. "This coming from the guy who owns more hair products than his girlfriend.
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You think he left a big flashing arrow pointing to a filing cabinet labeled 'Evidence Here!'? He's a Stray, Ethan, not Wile E. Coyote!
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Now if you’ll excuse me, Death waits for no man. Except me.
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He shrugged, looking right into my eyes. "Right now, this is all I feel." He held our intertwined hands up for me to see and I wanted to look away, but I couldn't break the hold his gaze had on me, like he could see more than anyone else saw. Things I couldn't see myself.
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At least you don’t need a prescription for tequila.
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A cat’s body can sustain a lot of damage without actually dying,” Lucas said, his voice as deep as the rumble of the earth itself. “You just think about that before you so much as scratch yourself without permission.” Ryan gulped and nodded, still mute.
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Regret couldn't fix what he's broken. Apologies couldn't bring back what he's lost. What we'd lost.
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I could have kissed you months ago, but it wouldn’t have meant anything. I wished for you to see me. And want me. So…did you mean it?” “Yes,” I said, and some unnamed tension inside me eased. “I see you, Tod.
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He went down like a cheerleader after prom.
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I want you. I want you so badly I can’t stand it. When you left, it felt like the world got darker. Like I couldn’t truly see anything. Couldn’t feel anything.
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He’s like the Rasputin of reapers.
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Kaylee, you're adding two and two and coming up with seven.
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But I had no plans to end my own life, and accidents couldn't be predicted. Neither could murder, unless my aunt and uncle were planning to take me out themselves.
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Talking. According to Marc, I could talk the color off a crayon.
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I couldn't see who swam in the darkness, who wore shadows like a second skin.
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It's suspiciously quiet in here, and there's a Tod shaped dent in the bean bag. For the sake of both my sanity and my temper, I'm going to pretend I can't tell that you're in his lap, so could you pretend that this is still my house and you are still my daughter, and I'm within my parental rights to kick your boyfriend out after 11:00 p.m.?
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Marc didn’t want to win by default. He wanted to win for real. Forever.
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It's not the length of the word; it's how well you use it!
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I am not cute. I am the dreaded Grim Reaper. People fear me, you know. There's a whole song about it.
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