I’ve told you before, I love like a madman,” he said. “Immoderate, jealous, possessive...I’m absolutely intolerable.

He'll survive," he answered her. "Just as he's survived everything else in his life. But he'll never be the same.

No more Dane,” he eventually said with unnerving finality. I tried to be funny. “I can't decide if that means you don't want me to see him again or if you're planning to kill him.” “It means if the first thing happens, the second thing is likely to follow.

Because I realized during the past few days that I can’t leave doubt in anyone’s mind about to whom you belong. Especially not yours.

...just a little touches her and there. He puts his hands on your arms or back, he stands close to you, getting you used to him... it's a mating ritual. Like March of the Penguins.

His kisses tapped into deep mines of memory, and the years that had separated us fell away as if they were nothing.

Perhaps only those who had loved and lost could appreciate this magic.