I turn back to see that he is holding out the book, offering it to me. My eyes make contact with the book at first and then travel up his very muscular, very athletic arm, coming to rest on the utterly beautiful tattoo that is wrapped around it. I can't see the head of the angel, but the detail of its wings as they sheathe his bicep and the sword it holds within its grasp are simply stunning.

The wolf said, "You know, my dear, it isn't safe for a little girl to walk through these woods alone." Red Riding Hood said, "I find your sexist remark offensive in the extreme, but I will ignore it because of your traditional status as an outcast from society, the stress of which has caused you to develop your own, entirely valid, worldview. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be on my way.

I am a man, and men do not drink pink drinks. Now, be gone, woman, and fetch me something brown." Jace said. "Brown?" said Isabelle."Yes. Brown. It's a manly color. See? Alec is wearing it." Jace said."Well, it was black but it faded." Alec said."Well, I can always fix it up with something sparkly," Magnus said, holding a sparkley headband. "Resist the urge, Alec, resist the urge." Simon said.

When he finished, he drank from the cup. Everyone else did too, so I followed suit.And nearly choked to death.It was like fire in liquid form. It took every ounce of strength I had to swallow it and not spray it on those around me."Wh...what is this?" I asked, coughing.Viktoria grinned. "Vodka."I peered at the glass. "No, it isn't. I've had vodka before.""Not Russian vodka."Apparently not.

By the Angel," Jace said, looking the demon up and down. "I knew Greater Demons were meant to be ugly, but no one ever warned me about the smell."Abbadon opened its mouth and hissed. Inside its mouth were two rows of jagged glass-sharp teeth."I'm not sure about this wind and howling darkness business," Jace went on, "smells more like landfill to me. You sure you're not from Staten Island?

I ripped my left arm out of his hand and slammed my elbow into his solar plexus. He exhaled in a gasp. I lunged for the dagger and sat on top of him, my knees pinning his arms, my dagger on his throat.He lay still. “I give up,” he said and smiled. “Your move.”Er. I was sitting atop the Beast Lord in my underwear, holding a knife to his throat. What the hell was my next move?

“Easy, female,” Cade soothed as he crept closer to where Holly huddled naked in a corner....When he began unbuttoning his shirt to cover her, she gave a cry, and bloody claws swiped out at him. Then she stared in horror at her fingertips....When he removed his shirt, she bared her small fangs and hissed, then looked aghast at her reaction.“There, now, a good hiss never hurt anyone.

But with dogs, we do have "bad dog." Bad dog exists. "Bad dog! Bad dog! Stole a biscuit, bad dog!" The dog is saying, "Who are you to judge me? You human beings who’ve had genocide, war against people of different creeds, colors, religions, and I stole a biscuit?! Is that a crime? People of the world!""Well, if you put it that way, I think you’ve got a point. Have another biscuit, sorry.

And we dress, sir --?" he murmured, feeling Osnard's gaze burning the nape of his neck. "Most of my gentlemen seem to favour left these days. I don't think it's political."This was his standard joke, calculated to raise a laugh even with the most sedate of his customers. Not with Osnard apparently."Never know where the bloody thing is. Bobs about like a windsock," he replied dismissively.

Artemis: "Right, brothers. Onward. Imagine yourself seated at a cafe in Montmartre."Myles: "In Paris."Artemis: "Yes, Paris. And try as you will, you cannot attract the waiter's attention. What do you do?"Beckett: "Umm...tell Butler to jump-jump-jump on his head?"Myles: "I agree with simple-toon."Artemis: "No! You simply raise one finger and say clearly 'ici, garcon.'"Beckett: "Itchy what?

Ah, but surely you must now be saying, "waitaminute, tuna fish would go bad if you kept it in your pocket for weeks and weeks without refrigerating it."To that I simply say: You obviously haven't read Professor P.S. Schackman's informative book How to Keep Tuna Fish in Your Pocket for Weeks and Weeks Without it Going Bad. I suggest you read it before complaining about the tuna situation again.

Heads swivel. Whispers erupt. As Kalist returns to his desk, bone cane by his side, he indulges, briefly, in horse practice, neighing lightly as he scrolls through a few mental images of busty secretary, Geiger, and pretty blond, Brichacek, rolling around in leather underwear on purple velvet bedsheets, then he stops and returns to reality, which is, in some ways, better than any fantasy he can create.

Elsie's shop was a treasure chest, where green wellies and waxed jackets originated way before Hunter and Barbour became household names. If she did not have what you wanted, dearie, she would go up to her vast attic, root around and come down to announce in triumph she had exactly the right thing even if you hadn't been looking for it. Some said her attics went back as far as Broadhampton Bay.

Something about telling that story made my gut grow back together."What?"Oh, nothing. Just thinking out loud."That's who you really like. The people you can think out loud in front of."The people who've been in your secret hiding places."The people you bite your thumb in front of."Hi."Hi."..."..."Wow. My first Lindsey."My second Colin."That was fun. Let's try it again."Sold."..."..."..."...

In turkle time a lin is the briefest moment that can just about be measured. Ninety lins make a tikk, one hundred tikks make a lod, thirty eight lods make a yan, the time it takes the planet Ankor to make one complete turn in the path of the star, Ruru, its main source of light and warmth. Ten yans make a zac. Six zacs make a yod, twenty yods make a zik. Twelve ziks make a zan. Sixteen zans make a nik.