“Put something in your stomach to absorb the alcohol before you spontaneously combust from the fumes. (Nykyrian)
Yeah, it’d be a damn shame to blow my internal organs all over your new shirt.(Syn)”

“Dexter, please put your shirt on. Valkyrie’s getting distracted.”
“I’m not,” she said, then smiled at Vex. “You don’t have to put your shirt on.”

“They won’t get you without getting us and believe me, we’re not about to make our enemies happy and die here. (Nykyrian)
Damn straight. We have too many people to continue pissing off. (Syn)”

“The problem with aging is not that it’s one damn thing after another—it’s every damn thing, all at once, all the time.
You can’t stop aging. Gene therapies and replacement organs and plastic surgery give it a good fight. But it catches up with you anyway. Get a new lung, and your heart blows a valve. Get a new heart, and your liver swells up to the size of an inflatable kiddie pool. Change out your liver, a stroke gives you a whack. That’s aging’s trump card; they still can’t replace brains.”

“And you and got nothin' on but the t-shirt I left over at your house the last time I came and put it on ya.”

“Shyness is when you turn your head away from something you want. Shame is when you turn your head away from something you do not want.”

“I love you all, you hear? Nothing turns MY stomach. I'll kiss your gallstones, your ulcers, your cancers, your bleeding piles - and they'll all disappear! I'm the miracle man.”

“Forest, I fear you! In my ruined heart your roaring wakens the same agony as in cathedrals when the organ moans and from the depths I hear that I am damned.”

“I don’t know, Sage. You threw yourself in the line of pepper spray for me. You must like me just a little bit.” “I— I figured it’d be a shame to ruin your pretty face,” I stammered.”

“(Something), something about this place
(Something), something, ‘bout lonely nights
And my lipstick on your face
Something, something about
My cool Nebraska guy.
Yeah, there's something about
Baby, you and I.”