He treasured her, treasured her tears, treasured her love for others. Her heart might even be big enough to fill that empty space in his own chest. Perhaps she could be his heart as well.

A garden always has a point.

Shh,” he whispered. “You asked me if I loved you. I do. I love you more than life itself. Nothing matters in this world but that you live. Can you do that for me? Can you live?

Every word you have ever uttered, is engraved upon my heart. -Lazarus to his mother.

Your cousin might be a pretty face, but you, my darling, courageous, maddening, seductive, mysterious, wonderful Diana, you are the Duchess of Wakefield. My duchess.

Each time it was like a stray bit of glass pressed into the softness of her heart, grinding, grinding, oh so silently until she no longer noticed when she bled.

There are no heroes on the battlefield, my lady; there are only survivors.

Do you love me Hero?" His pale green eyes were full of torment. "Do you love me like I love you?

If I'm good enough to bed, surely I'm good enough to wed.

Dear God. She ached, wanting something that she knew was a sin. Wanting a man who was sin itself.

Will ye come with me?” he whispered. And she answered without hesitation. “Yes, please.

Not at all. Cooking is cool. I’ll make you one shaped like the moon.”“Why the moon?”“Because you remind me of the moon, ” he said, and looked into his bowl. Sarah blushed.

Let the spirits guide you, but never let them take you.

That's justice, " she said, nodding at the statue. "She doesn't hear you. She doesn't see you. She can't feel you and won't speak to you. Justice, Detective Bosch, is just a concrete blonde.

I do not need a trophy to tell myself that I am the best.

Prejudices are the refuge of those who cannot think for themselves.

After all, game shows are not like working in a coal mine.

Simply having rules does not change the things that people want to do. You have to change incentive.

Ideas that enter the mind under fire remain there securely and for ever.

And what is the very essence of poetry if it is not this 'metaphorical language'-this marking of the before unapprehended relations of things?

A decision made from fear is always the wrong decision.