Quotes About Conflict

The man was irresistible. What's with that? she thought. It was like wanting to bake cookies for the spawn of Satan.

His can of pepper spray was bigger than my can of pepper spray.

You have to step on people's feet and kick them in the back of the leg," Grandma said, "then they move away from you.

Morelli ran after him, there was a lot of yelling and growling, and Morelli came down empty-handed. "He ate it," Morelli said. I was horrified to the point of gagging. Ranger stared down at his shoe, making a monumental effort not to laugh. And Morelli stood hands on hips, staring at the bloody splotch on his rug.

The mother and daughter whose roles had reversed—Grandma gladly relinquishing parental responsibility, my mother grimly accepting the task, struggling to find a place for an old woman who'd suddenly become a strange hybrid of tolerant mother and rebellious daughter. My father, in the living room, not wanting any part of it.

He lowered his mouth and kissed me. I know I should have kneed him in the groin, but the kiss was delicious. Joe Morelli still knew how to kiss.

I exchanged glances with my mother and Grandma. None of us wanted to tell my father about the contract on Grandma. "Mistaken identity," I said. "Prank," my mother said. "Damn aliens," Grandma said.

FARC, the Colombian rebels who've been funding their revolution against the state with kidnapping, extortion, and drug dealing.

He was bigger and stronger than me, and probably crazier. Although some might argue that last point.

I grew up with Morelli, lost my virginity to him, ran over him with my father's Buick in a fit of justifiable rage, and now years later he's my boyfriend.

So why'd you part ways with this Dickie Orr person?" Lula asked. "He's a jerk." "Good enough for me," she said. "I hate him already.

How about we cut a hole in your bedspread and punch your head through it," Lula said. "That should be about your size.

I want nothing. There is no pizza. There is no you, no me, no us, no pizza. And don't ever call me again, you scummy, slimy fungus-ridden dog turd, piece of fly crud.

There was a lot of swearing and ineffective bitch-slapping

The result is sometimes an ugly display of old lady bitch slapping.

Poppies bleed petals of sheer excess. You and I, this sweet battle ground.

Love humiliates you, hatred cradles you.

Lovers who kill each other will blame it on the wind.

You imagine you can see me, Mother? All you could ever see was your own face in a mirror." "Who am I, Mother? I'm not you. That's why you wish I were dead. You can't shape me anymore.

He had loved her, but he hated himself more.

What did it mean, that the two people she loved best in the world hated each other? It was the sides of herself, irreconcilable.

We tried not to be in the same room at the same time when Starr was home, we set the air on fire between us.

I was torn and stitched, I was a strip mine, and they would just have to look. I hoped I made them sick. I hoped they saw me in their dreams.

Father turned on me as if blackbirds had flown out of my mouth.