In the future, if by some miracle you ever find yourself in the position to fall in love again ... fall in love with me.
We both just wanted someone to love us enough to make up for all the times we hadn’t been enough.
I have for the first time found what I can truly love – I have found you. You are my sympathy – my better self – my good angel – I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wrap my existence about you – and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.
When I finally kiss you, there won’t be any doubt in your mind that it is real.
[T]he books we love, they love us back. And just as we mark our places in the pages, those pages leave their marks on us.
There is only one page left to write on. I will fill it with words of only one syllable. I love. I have loved. I will love.
Kiss me, and you will see how important I am.
I'm starting to wonder if this is what being in love is. Being okay with ripping yourself to shreds, so the other person can stay whole.
I fell in love with you, smartass, because you were one of us – because you weren’t afraid of me, and you decided to end your spectacular victory by throwing that piece of bone at Amarantha like a javelin. I felt Cassian’s spirit beside me in that moment, and could have sworn I heard him say, ‘If you don’t marry her, you stupid prick, I will.'
And she loved a little boy very, very much – even more than she loved herself.
In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.
Even in its first faint traces, love could alter a landscape. It wrote unimagined stories and made the most beautiful, forbidding places.