“It is not my intention to be fulsome, but I confess that I covet your skull.”
“I had hardly expected so dolichocephalic a skull or such well-marked supra-orbital development. Would you have any objection to my running my finger along your parietal fissure? A cast of your skull, sir, until the original is available, would be an ornament to any anthropological museum. It is not my intention to be fulsome, but I confess that I covet your skull.”
“I covet no man's soul, nor is my soul theirs to covet.”
“The world know it not; but you, Autumn, I confess it: your wind at night-fall stabs deep into my heart”
“Sir, with no intention to take offence, I deny your right to put words into my mouth.”
“What is this "heart"? If I tear open that chest of yours, will I see it there? If I smash open that skull of yours, will I see it there?~ulquiorra”