I don't do farm animals. Can't stand hay in your leathers?Or wool in my teeth.

Don't think I was the only reason he healed. You're his light, Marissa. Don't ever forget that.

Listen to me. You have the fashion sense of a park bench and the interpersonal skills of a meat cleaver--""Is this supposed to be helping?""Let me finish--""What's next? The size of my cock?""Hey, even pencils can get the job done--I've heard the moaning from your room to prove it.

Don't make me flip you off""Why would I deprive you of a favourite hobby?""Because my finger's getting sore.

But then, gifts are like beauty, arethey not. It is in the eye of the recipient that they find their seat, not in the hand of the giver.

You want to poof it or ride back with me?

Do not kill him. That shit would totally bum Jane out.

Thank fuck you're not a Yankees fan.""Don't use the Y-word. We're in mixed company.

Cause nothing said lovin' like a shitload of motion detectors.