His character is like an emerald—multifaceted and enhanced by inclusions.

Death stalked toward us on padded feet.       And it was not alone.

There was something in her eyes that made me trust her. Maybe it was because they held the same cynicism, the same world-weariness I saw in my own every morning when I looked at myself in the mirror.

A lot of things should have been, Zigmund, but they aren’t. Are you going to be miserable about the things you cannot change, or do something about the things you can?

Affronts to her reputation pierced her to the heart, though I couldn’t understand why, since she had very little character left to defend.

Thirteen years of friendship had bonded us together more thoroughly than if we had been born of the same mother. Even at this late stage, I was unwilling to let him go.

With Stefan, the line between good and evil, right and wrong, becomes increasingly blurred.

I’d go to hell and back and cut off the devil’s head myself to save you.

Not all vampires are created equal, you know.

Stefan needed me. Ha! Stefan needed me, as what? His next meal?

She rounded on me with such ferocity that for a moment I didn’t recognize her. A flash of fangs, a dark gleam in her blacker-than-night eyes. It was the most vampiric I’d ever seen her.

What a woman tells her lover in desireshould be written out on air & running water.

Music is the wine which inspires one to new generative processes, and I am Bacchus who presses out this glorious wine for mankind and makes them spiritually drunken.

Keep on sowing your seed, for you never know which will grow - perhaps it all will.

I scarce ever heard or saw the introductory words, "Without vanity I may say," etc., but some vain thing immediately followed.

The future is an imagined Now, a projection of the mind.

The patience of poverty. In rice fields, backs bent forever. Amazing, man outoxens the oxen and still smiles. The mystery of India, say Indologists.

There are infinite modes of expression in the world of art, and to insist that only by one road can the artist attain his ends is to limit him.

I am never going to please all 100 million people who read the book. I'll be lucky if half that number are happy with me playing Christian Grey. I know there are campaigns of hate against me already.

Here's who it's okay to share a bed with: . . . A heating pad. An empty bag of pita chips. The love of your life.

The bee is more honored than other animals, not because she labors, but because she labors for others.