When you're walking through the darkness, you can't depend on anything or anyone else to light your way. You have to rely on whatever sparks you've got inside you. Or you're going to get lost.

Very well,” Beatrix said reluctantly. “But I warn you, they may be resistant to the match.” “I’m resistant to the match,” Christopher informed her. “At least we’ll have that in common.

But I hadn't known what love was. And I wondered how you could ever be sure, when you thought you loved someone, if you really did.

Because letting someone in close meant they could hurt you. I knew all about that kind of fear. I lived with it.

I-I’m not making advances,” she told him as she flattened herself against his chest. “You’re just an available s-source of heat.” “So you say,” St. Vincent replied lazily, tucking the quilt more tightly around them both. “However, during the past quarter hour you’ve been fondling parts of my anatomy that no one’s ever dared to touch before.” “I v-very much doubt that.” She burrowed even further into the depths of his coat, and added in a muffled voice, “You’ve probably been h-handled more than a hamper at Fortnum and Mason.

It's difficult for most of us to be completely honest with ourselves - we hate to admit how vulnerable or needful we are.

The firefly is an unassuming insect in the daytime. If you didn't know what it was, you'd think it was nothing special. But at night, the firefly glows with its own light source. The darkness brings out its most beautiful gift. That's an extraordinary talent for an ordinary-looking creature, isn't it?