duty, the most indecent of all obsessions, was only another name for love.

There is no doubt that it is more difficult to read and more difficult to write but I still manage.

Best of all she liked his eyes, such a translucent golden brown, and so laughing.

Love and hate are cruel, only liking is kind

How frightening, that one person could mean so much, so many things.

I want to know what they look like, their height, and colouring, physique and speech pattens.

Perfection, in anything, is unbearably dull. Myself, I prefer a touch of imperfection.