234 Quotes About Merit

I glanced mildly at Lindsey. “Did you spike his blood with caffeine?” “Die Hard marathon was on TV last night,” she said. “He’s been weaponized since then.

Because sometimes women cry when there’s good news. Tears of relief. You know, catharsis.” His expression was utterly blank. “Haven’t you ever cried when you, I don’t know, you get a new batch of that fancy stationery you like with the watermarks on it?” He looked bewildered. “That’s what you think I’d cry tears of relief about?” “You do like your office supplies.

Ethan chuckled. “It hasn’t escaped my attention, Sentinel, that you cringe every time I mention our future.” “I don’t cringe. I only cringe when you pretend-propose.” He had a penchant for going down on bended knee—and straightening a hem or helping me with a shoe. “Nobody finds that amusing.” “I find it excessively amusing. You do realize, don’t you, that the proposal won’t always be fake?

He wore a gray hoodie with the green Jakob’s Quest logo across the front. Dear God, I thought. The RG had a Jeff.

I had a sense of your passion when we met, Merit. When you first stormed into my House with fire in your eyes.” “That wasn’t fire. That was sheer, unmitigated fury.

Girl, you’re a vampire. This day and age, everything you do is a felony.

The sword’s a really nice touch—did you get it at Faire Makers?—but I’m not buying the attitude. It’s not really Merit. You should be channeling your inner vampire sex warrior. Like this,” she said, then put her hands on her hips, canted out one leg, and smiled sensually. “What?” was all I could think to say. “Maybe a little more cleavage, too.” “Cleavage.” She nodded, winked. “A vampire sex warrior can never show too much cleavage.

Have you ever noticed that however uncomfortable you might have been when you first went to bed-the room too hot or too cold; the pillows not quite right; the mattress lumpy; the sheets sratchy-by the time you should get up, your bed has transformed itself into the Platonic ideal of beds? The room is cool, the bed is soft, and the pillow may as well have been God's Own Headrest.

Dear God,” I said, dodging a pair of zombie cheerleaders to cross the busy pathway to the “Hunkiest” table, staring down at the assortment of pink, white, and pale blue panties, Ethan’s green eyes staring out from the front triangle.