You've mistaken me for someone else. Do not wait on me, Ms. Lane. Do not construct your world around mine. I'm not that man." "Screw you, Barrons." "I'm not that man, either.

That part of his body was simply uncontrollable, apparently functioning in accordance to a single law of nature: She existed--he got a hard-on.

Nobody looks good in their darkest hour. But it's those hours that make us what we are. We stand strong, or we cower. We emerge victorious, tempered by our trails, or fracture by a permanent, damning fault line.

If you're trying to force the story to be a straight up romance, it's going to be weird for you.

Do you think love just goes away? Pops out of existence when it becomes too painful or inconvenient, as if you never felt it?

What are you? A man with a rope? Ha-ha.

I'd learned a thing or two. Hope strengthens. Fear kills.