You know you're smarter than all of them, right?' Hale said flatly.'In fact, if you wanted to PROVE it...'He glanced at the blackjack tables.Simon shook his head. 'I don't count cards, Hale.'Don't?' Hale smiled. 'Or won't? You know, technically, it's not illegal.'But it's frowned upon.'Sweat beaded at Simon's brow. He sounded like someone had just suggested he swim after eating... Run with scissors... 'It is SERIOUSLY frowned upon.

Did you follow me here?'Something like that.'I let out a frustrated groan. 'Can't anyone just talk to me straight? Why is everyone avoiding my damn questions tonight?'Bishop's brows went up. 'Okay, fine. Yes, I followed you here. Better?'Yes. Stalkery, but better.'I'm not stalking you.'Spoken like a true stalker.

And maybe that's love, too - feeling the other person's hurts like your own.

Are you following me?' He asked.'Us?' I was the first to speak. 'Um, maybe. Hi there. How are you tonight?'He looked at me like I might be a bit crazy.

God can allow you to pass through storms and get to your success. But what the devil loves to do is to make you not to realize it that the storm is over. He wishes to keep you in condemnation even at the time you have to feel liberated.

Kat,' Hale groaned, then fell back onto the pillows.'Funny, I didn't hear a doorbell.'I let myself in; hope that's okay.'Hale smiled. 'Or the alarm.'She stepped inside, tossed a pocket-size bag of tools onto the bed. 'You're due for an upgrade.'Hale propped himself against the antique headboard and squinted up at her.'She returns.' He crossed his arms across his bare chest. 'You know, I could be naked in here.

A pastor without anointing is just a religious professor.

You know' - Hale's breath was warm against Kat's ear in the chilly ballroom- 'I don't know that both of us really have to be here....' The slide changed. While hundreds of mathematicians waited with baited breath, the boy beside Kat whispered,'I could go make some calls... Check on some things...'Play some blackjack?'Well, when in Rome...'Rome is tomorrow, babe,' Kat reminded him.He nodded. 'Right.

You put on a bishop's robe and miter, he pondered, and walk around in that, and people bow and genuflect and like that, and try to kiss your ring, if not your ass, and pretty soon you're a bishop. So to speak. What is identity? He asked himself. Where does the act end? Nobody knows.

Bishop was all done with the witty converstaion. 'Will you swear?'And Myrnin said, shockingly, 'I will.' And he proceeded to, a string of swearwords that made Claire blink. He ended with, '—frothy fool-born apple-john! Cheater of vandals and defiler of dead dogs!' and did another twirl and bow. He looked up with a red, red grin that was more like a leer. 'Is that what you meant, my lord?