“According to the biographical notes, Monsieur Julian Carax was twenty-seven, born with the century in Barcelona, and currently living in Paris; he wrote in French and worked at night as a professional pianist in a hostess bar. The blurb, written in the pompous, moldy style of the age, proclaimed that this was a first work of dazzling courage, the mark of a protean and trailblazing talent, and a sign of hope for the future of all of European letters. In spite of such solemn claims, the synopsis that followed suggested that the story contained some vaguely sinister elements slowly marinated in saucy melodrama, which, to the eyes of Monsieur Roquefort, was always a plus: after the classics what he most enjoyed were tales of crime, boudoir intrigue, and questionable conduct.One of the pitfalls of childhood is that one doesn't have to understand something to feel it. By the time the mind is able to comprehend what has happened, the wounds of the heart are already too deep.She laughed nervously. She had around her a burning aura of loneliness. "You remind me a bit of Julian," she said suddenly. "The way you look and your gestures. He used to do what you are doing now. He would stare at you without saying a word, and you wouldn't know what he was thinking, and so, like an idiot, you'd tell him things it would have been better to keep to yourself.""Someone once said that the moment you stop to think about whether you love someone, you've already stopped loving that person forever."I gulped down the last of my coffee and looked at her for a few moments without saying anything. I thought about how much I wanted to lose myself in those evasive eyes. I thought about the loneliness that would take hold of me that night when I said good-bye to her, once I had run out of tricks or stories to make her stay with me any longer. I thought about how little I had to offer her and how much I wanted from her."You women listen more to your heart and less to all the nonsense," the hatter concluded sadly. "That's why you live longer."But the years went by in peace. Time goes faster the more hollow it is. Lives with no meaning go straight past you, like trains that don't stop at your station.”

“You don't know what it's like to grow up with a mother who never said a positive thing in her life, not about her children or the world, who was always suspicious, always tearing you down and splitting your dreams straight down the seams. When my first pen pal, Tomoko, stopped writing me after three letters she was the one who laughed: You think someone's going to lose life writing to you? Of course I cried; I was eight and I had already planned that Tomoko and her family would adopt me. My mother of course saw clean into the marrow of those dreams, and laughed. I wouldn't write to you either, she said. She was that kind of mother: who makes you doubt yourself, who would wipe you out if you let her. But I'm not going to pretend either. For a long time I let her say what she wanted about me, and what was worse, for a long time I believed her.”

“I thought you'd be halfway to Tokyo by now,” she said, stalling.“Not without you.”Oh, man, she was so screwed. He was bad enough when he was giving her shit. Right now he was looking at her as ifshe was the most precious thing on earth, and she knew what she looked and smelled like. The world had turned upsidedown.“I don't suppose you love me,” she said. “Even a little bit?”“Don't be an idiot, Ji-chan. Why else would I be here? Now, do you want to stay here or do you want to prove you're reallycrazy and come with me?”“Will you grow your hair again?”“If you want me to.”“Then tell me.”“You're not going to make this easy, are you? Su-chan warned me about you.”“She warned me, too. Tell me.”He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Aishiteru,” he muttered.“In English.”“I love you.”

“Then tell me this: How do I outthink an enemy I know is smarter than I am?' ...I face some of the most crafty people who have ever lived. My current foe understands the minds of others in a way that I cannot hope to match. So how do I defeat her? She will vanish the moment I threaten her, running to one of a dozen other refuges that she is sure to have set up. ...I have to peer into her eyes, see into her soul, and know that it's her that I face and not some decoy. I have to do that without frightening her into running. How?'***The question remains,' he said, voice soft but tense. 'How would you fight her, Nynaeve?'I don't care to play your games, Rand al'Thor,' Nynaeve replied with a huff. 'You've obviously already decided what you intend to do. Why ask me?'Because what I'm about to do should frighten me,' he said. 'It doesn't.”

“As Robin thought about what he had just said, Noah got up from the chair and knelt down in front of her. 'How about I give you three reasons? Morning, day, and night.'She narrowed her eyes.'Stay… so every morning when I open my eyes, you’ll be the first thing I see. Stay… so every day when I’m with you, I can show you all over again exactly how much you mean to me. And stay… so every night when you lay your head down next to mine, you’ll know… you’ll know just how much you’re loved.'Her eyes drifted to the water as she thought for a moment, returning to look deep into Noah’s eyes.'Okay, Noah… I’ll stay.”

“But he would understand,” he said dazedly. “If we explained it to him. If we told him…he would understand.”She made her voice as cold as she could. As calm. “Told him what?”Will only looked at her. There had been light in his eyes on the stairs… And it was going now, fading like the last breath of someone dying. She felt as if she were watching the life bleed out of Will Herondale. “Jem would forgive me,” Will said, but there was hopelessness in his face, his voice, already. He had given up, Tessa thought. “He would,” she said, “He would never stay angry at you, Will; he loves you too well for that. I do not even think he would hold anger toward me. But this morning he told me he thought he would die without ever loving anyone as his father loved his mother, without ever being loved like that in return. Do you want me to go down the hallway and knock on his door and take that away from him? And would you love me still, if I did?”“Then…please, Tessa, don’t tell him what I just told you…”“I will tell no one,” she said. “I swear it…”