I absolutely love you, Briony, and I am on my knees. So we're getting married - right? But say it fast before we get shot." Only Jack would ask - if you could call it asking - in the middle of a battlefield, with a man lying dead at his feet.

You aren't worried are you?" "Why should I be worried? It's just another day in the neighborhood. You know - bombs, fires, people shooting at you. Why should I be worried? Especially since we could be clothes shopping or boarding a plane. I'm not in the least worried." "Hmmm," he mused allowed. "I read about this in the relationship manual. It's called womanly sarcasm and usually means a man is in deep trouble.

Someone needs to drag you kicking and screaming into this century.

...but you have to know when you close those doors, you don't leave anything for the other person.

And of course I'm a chauvinist, but it isn't my fault." "It isn't?" "No, Jack was born first and I share his genes. I can't help it if he infected me inside the womb." Briony burst out laughing. "I should have known that would be your excuse.

I know what it's like to battle everyday of my life, just for acceptance, just to survive.

You're insane, but you're my kind of man.