Great Men Don't Nessarily Make Good Husbands.

I'm Not The Marrying Kind -" St. Vincent Snorted. "no Man Is. Marriage Is A Female Invention.

You Know What It Is You Smell On Him, Haven? Testosterone. It's Leaking Out Of His Pores.

No More Dane,” He Eventually Said With Unnerving Finality. I Tried To Be Funny. “i Can't Decide If That Means You Don't Want Me To See Him Again Or If You're Planning To Kill Him.” “it Means If The First Thing Happens, The Second Thing Is Likely To Follow.

Maybe He's Not College-smart, But He's Smart In A Way They Can't Teach.

But I Hadn't Known What Love Was. And I Wondered How You Could Ever Be Sure, When You Thought You Loved Someone, If You Really Did.