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Quote by Amy Harmon

“But it wasn’t. Sex is not the most intimate thing two lovers can do. Even when the sex is beautiful. Even when it’s perfect.” Millie drew a deep breath as if she remembered how perfect it had truly been. “The most intimate thing we can do is to allow the people we love most to see us at our worst. At our lowest. At our weakest. True intimacy happens when nothing is perfect. And I don’t think you’re ready to be intimate with me, David.”

Quote by Amy Harmon

Book:The Song of David
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The Song of David

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Author

Amy Harmon
Amy Harmon

Amy Harmon is a seasoned journalist, born on September 17, 1968. She has extensive experience in the news industry and is known for her in-depth investigative reporting and keen observations. more

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“What about Millie?" "Millie?" he says, spinning back around to face me. "Oh yes, Millie Vagaboss. Let's definitely talk about her." His sarcasm really isn't bad for a Midwestern boy. "It's none of my business, really," I say as I realize I don't actually want to hear this, most likely. "No, no, it's your business, especially since you gave her your blessing to basically dry hump me in the van last night." "What the hell?" I think I feel my nostrils flaring, but I really hope not. "I did?" "Yeah, thanks for that," he says. "She told me you said there's nothing going on between us, and you were cool if she hooked up with me, like I'm some guy in your personal boy harem and you're giving me to her as a token of your appreciation." "It was so not like that! Are you kidding me?" "She was really drunk," he says. "But that was the gist of it, yeah." Now I'm mad. I have no idea why, since I basically did tell Millie she was free to go for it with Bean. "What's wrong?" he says. "Did you really expect to find her hiding in my closet? Were you going to fight for my honor or something?" "Stop making fun of me." "Stop giving me to your friends like I'm some kind of manslut.”

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“Who the hell is Warren Ellis again?” Hardison gaped at the man. “Only one of the greatest comics writers in the past twenty years. Might as well ask who Alan Moore is, or Frank Miller, or Mark Waid, or Brian Michael Bendis, or Marv Wolfman, or Geoff Johns.” Eliot gave Hardison a blank look as they wove their way through the hall. Parker took the lead, toting a printed sign with her. Eliot and Hardison trailed in her wake. They made a point of striding right past Patronus’s booth. They didn’t turn to see if he noticed them. “No one?” Hardison said. “Nothing? Not even Kurt Busiek? Neil Gaiman?” “I have a life. I do things, active things. I date women.” “Stan Lee?” Eliot gave Hardison that one with a wag of his head. “Who hasn’t heard of Stan Lee?” “All right,” Hardison said with satisfaction. “You had me worried there, man.”

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