Sorry' he said. 'No, I'm sorry.' 'What are you sorry for?' 'Rattling on like a mad old cow. I'm sorry, I'm tired, bad day, and I'm sorry for being so...boring.' 'You're not that boring.' 'I am, Dex. God, I swear I bore myself.' 'Well, you don't bore me.' He took her hand in his. 'You could never bore me. You're one in a million, Em.

You can't throw away years of your life because it makes a funny anecdote.

Oh you know me. I have no emotions. I'm a robot. Or a nun. A robot nun.

It's the face itself that I love, not that face at twenty-eight or thirty-four or forty-three. It's that face.

He has found himself more and more reliant on her at exactly the point that she has become less available to him.

A moment passed, perhaps half a second when their faces said what they felt, and then Emma was smiling, laughing, her arms around his neck.

I suppose the important thing is to make some sort of difference,’ she siad. ‘You know, actually change something.’ ‘What, like “change the world”, you mean?’ ‘Not the whole entire world. Just the little bit around you.