Andrea Speed Quotes

I don't know how breeder marriages ever work, since the wife never seems to understand.

Everyone needs to believe in something, even if it is totally bugfuck nuts.

Jesus Christ. Men looking for ways to seem more macho. That's like ninety-eight percent of the world's problems.""I know. But should we be saying that, since we're guys?"Seb shrugged. "No matter. World's kinda fucked anyways.

I'm not going to lie to you and say it gets easier, because it doesn't. It's just that you get used to it. The human animal has an amazing capacity to get used to almost anything.

Something in him just lived to be contrary. If he couldn't have their respect, he'd accept their hate.

Roan looked at Paris and wondered where they would go from here and if there would be any light at the end of the tunnel before it collapsed on top of them. Too bad there was really no such thing as a happy ending.

Let me say, on behalf of the entire gay male community, we hate your fucking guts 'cause you landed him. Share, you selfish bastard.

They were probably the best-matched pair of weird fucks that life had ever coughed

This was how the world ended. Not with a bang, but with a whimper.

Have you had unprotected gay sex?"

This time he got a snort and a laugh. "I ain't no butt pirate."

Roan felt the urge to say, " Arr matey, prepare to be boarded," but somehow managed to repress it.

How did I know you were going to show up?"
"Because you're psychic now?"
Dylan raised an eyebrow at that. "If I was actually psychic, sweetheart, I probably wouldn't have
gotten involved with you."
"Oh, ow," he said, grabbing his chest. "I think you just made my heart hurt.

Cockblocked by the phone. Wanna bet it's Focus On The Family or some Satanic organization like?

When was the last time you were with a man? In the Biblical sense."
"I thought the Bible frowned on that."
That made him chuckle. "You're talking to a preacher's son here. The Bible frowns on many things, and yet seems good on slavery and selling your daughters, so I'm thinking it's schizophrenic at best.

There's nothing to give away. I get so exhausted being what people want me to be that when I'm on my own, I enjoy being nothing to no one. You have no idea how tiring it is always being someone else.

Cold case or not, the case was technically still open, never closed. These files should have been totally off limits to him. Gabe was risking his job by giving him this. "Wow, I had no idea you'd give me the keys to the kingdom. Thank you."
"If you can find anything new about this case, I will kiss you in front of the squad room. On the lips. Hell, find something actionable and I just may give you a hand job."
"Not a blow job?"
"Don't push it.

After what Holden and Kevin had told him, and what he could find himself, he just wanted to sit this guy down, talk calmly and rationally, and then beat him so bad his grandkids would be born dizzy and bleeding from the eyeballs.

You can't isolate yourself, because that's the worst thing you can do. There's no healing if there's no movement, and isolation is the same as standing still.

Sometimes loving someone just sucked.

Paris rubbed his forehead against his, running his hands through Roan's hair, and said, 'How about we come back here
and exchange notes once we're done with the interviews? Take a long lunch.'

'Only exchange notes?'

'No one said we can't exchange notes in bed.

Humanity was awful; humanity made you hurt. Humanity was a weakness that would kill everyone, one way or another.

God, he was so beautiful. It was the tragic kind of beauty too, the kind you knew was doomed from the start. A face that launched a thousand ships and dug a million graves.

Strong could be dealt with - but crazy? Oh no. You never knew what the crazy were going to do.

It's an expensive place. The cheapest salad is twenty-five dollars."
"I hope that comes with extra croutons and a hand job.

He hated YouTube. He wishes it would die of mad cow disease.

The problem with life - with a lot of things - was randomness was responsible for so many things.

MRI machines sucked. They really, honestly sucked. You lay motionless inside a cramped metal tube that made you feel like a torpedo waiting for launch, and weird noises went off around you as you fought off claustrophobia you'd never had before for an hour that seemed to last approximately one thousand years.

Roan tried not to stare, but the guard's head was almost perfectly egg shaped. He wanted to ask him if he'd ever had a hen sit on him by mistake.

I think all people who are obsessed with other people's sex lives are hiding something.

Did you kiss me?"
"What? Why would you think that?" His smirking face seemed to give nothing away.
"You bastard! Who cops a feel on an unconscious man?"
"Not me. I like my feelees conscious.

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Shit was getting to Roan, but it was getting to Dylan too. Everyone just needed a hug and possibly some quaaludes, but hey, who was he to judge?

That was the problem with caring. It left you vulnerable, open on one side to the most hideous pain imaginable, and the only antidote was to stop giving a shit, but how did you do that? How did you turn it all off?

I'm always going to be with you, you know. As long as you remember me, I will exist. Memory is a form of existence, life after death.

What doesn't kill you can be ignored until the immediate crisis has passed.

There was an audible gasp, like everyone had been sucker-punched, and the sound reverberated through the hall like he'd just announced that not only was god dead, but he'd also been a hermaphroditic drag queen called Miss Demeanor.