D'ye think I don't know?" he asked softly. "It's me that has the easy part now. For if ye feel for me as I do for you-then I'm asking you to tear out your heart and live without it.

Well, I can't remember not being able to read. I was told I could read by myself very well at the age of three.

Gentle he would be, denied he would not.

If I find I need guidance, I’ll ask.

Mo Nighean donn," he whispered," mo chridhe. My brown lass, my heart." Come to me. Cover me. Shelter me. a bhean, heal me. Burn with me, as I burn for you.

An Englishman thinks a hundred miles is a long way; and American thinks a hundred years is a long time

forgiveness is not a single act, but a matter of constant practice