Saying his name stabbed my heart, like someone had ripped through my carefully stitched up world and exposed the infected, pulsing red tissue that I thought was healing.

Regrets are only felt by those who do not understand life's purpose.

Your heart knows. Your soul remembers.

I don’t mind being alone either. The only problem is that if you’re always alone, you get lonely.

A tiger only needs three things to be comfortable. Lots of food, sleep, and...actually, no it's just those two things.

Love is not a consequence. Love is not a choice. Love is a thirst. A need as vital to the soul as water is to the body. Love is a precious draught that not only soothes a parched throat, but it vitalizes a man. It fortifies him enough that he is willing to slay dragons for the woman who offers it. Take that draught of love from me and I will shrivel to dust. To take it from a man dying of thirst and give it to another whilst he watches is a cruelty I never thought you capable of.

Okay. So, apparently I find burly Indian men attractive. What's wrong with that?