A general cry of "What book? What book? Let us see this famous book!
For where all love is, the speaking is unnecessary
Your face is my heart
When you're reading, you're not where you are; you're in the book. By the same token, I can write anywhere.
Tell him I hate him to his guts and the marrow of his bones!
Torn between the impulse to stroke his head, and the urge to cave it in with a rock, I did neither.