When he kisses me again, the last part of me that could stand myself dies.

there are three kinds of people in the world: those who don't know and don't know they don't know; those who don't know and do know they don't know; and those who know and know how much they still don't know.

If I couldn't be a good example, I'd just have to be a horrible warning.

Maybe I needed sensitivity training. I once signed up for an anger management class, but the instructor pissed me off.

…dancing in the carnage and the flames.

Water matted his black hair into spikes and peppered his skin with a fresh sheen. If I shut my eyes I could still see the one who bound me, his smile bright as the white sun as he emerged from our latest dip in the sea. I fought the sudden urge to bury my face in his chest and run my fingers through that hair.