At least it would have been perfect, if it wasn't for my mother.

A turmoil of winds rushed around him, spiraling up in to the air: he was thinking.

Reading always calmed me down: filling my head with other - made up - people's problems and conflicts made my own seem less terrible, less real.

You will do as you are told the second you are told to do it. Is that clear?''I'm not six mother, I think I can grasp standard sentences.' Whether I chose to pay attention to them however...

I loved him, more than anything else in the world and that when he was away it was hard to breath and that I couldn't go through a single second without thinking about him.

He could never care about you. He sees you in the same way they see all of us: ruthless, cruel and power hungry." He laughed callously. "I guess we're about to prove them right.

Your powers don't work in the rain do they? A little bit of water and your fire fizzles out? So Little Miss Perfect does have a weakness after all!

I felt as though a large knot of flames had been lit in my stomach, making me feel nauseous and excited all at once

I'm a Helian, and you're an Arcan. We're just made that way. I don't think we would ever be able to really understand each other.

The hero was the sort of character you could feel yourself falling in love with, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that he wasn't real

It was exactly the sort of thing I needed to be reading that afternoon: a story where, no matter how bad things got, you knew everything was going to turn out fine in the end.

You cannot sensibly expect a starving 'God-fearing' man to honor the 8th commandment.

What I desire to point out is that I wish the law was not so, but that being the law, I must follow it.

A lot of my material was based on my family.

Risking one's life can be strangely liberating. That's what the sea counsels me.

There is enough sin in my best prayer to send the whole world to Hell.

I'm neither Democrat nor Republican. I'm Methodist. I have grievances with both parties.

“Secretary of State Clinton dared Iran on Monday to let her hold a town-hall meeting in Tehran.” That’s telling ’em. If the ayatollahs had a sense of humor, they’d call her bluff.

I still get nervous about singing. I drink tea with honey and lemon before every concert. And I need to have scented candles in all of my hotel rooms.

I try to be the best I can be at what I can do, and that’s playing hard & rebounding.

Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.