Do you need anything before I go? I want you to return my wits, I long to say.

I am beginning to think that love itself is never wrong. It is what love can drive people to do that is the problem.

When one consorts with assassins, one must expect to dance along the edge of a knife once or twice.

Surely He does not give us hearts so we may spend our lives ignoring them.

It is all we have left to us. And while it is more than I ever dared dream, it is nowhere near enough.

Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours.

I am left with the conviction that an avalanche would be easier to dissuade than that man.