“I pulled them out of the fire myself. I read them all. Every word you wrote. You and I, Tess, we're alike. We live and breathe words. It was books that kept me from taking my own life after I thought I could never love anyone, never be loved by anyone again. It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone. They could be honest with me, and I with them. Reading your words, what you wrote, how you were lonely sometimes and afraid, but always brave; the way you saw the world, its colors and textures and sounds, I felt-I felt the way you thought, hoped, felt, dreamed. I felt I was dreaming and thinking and feeling with you. I dreamed what you dreamed, wanted what you wanted-and then I realized that truly I just wanted you. The girl behind the scrawled letters. I loved you from the moment I read them. I love you still.”

“We live and breathe words. .... It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone. They could be honest with me, and I with them. Reading your words, what you wrote, how you were lonely sometimes and afraid, but always brave; the way you saw the world, its colors and textures and sounds, I felt--I felt the way you thought, hoped, felt, dreamt. I felt I was dreaming and thinking and feeling with you. I dreamed what you dreamed, wanted what you wanted--and then I realized that truly I just wanted you.”

“We live and breathe words. It was books that kept me from taking my own life after I thought I could never love anyone, never be loved again. It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone. They could be honest with me, and I with them.”

“The girl behind the scrawled letters. I loved you from the moment I read them. I love you still.” - Will Herondale”

“Ms.Mutou-I was told to write a last will, but…But even if I had possessions that were worth passing on, I have no family to give them to,So I wrote a letter to you, like always..I never could have imagined how shocked I’d been…When I first saw you at the prison.The truth is, I’d been looking for you.On that day that my brother died and I was left alone,Even you disappeared from the television screens…I looked for you…I looked and looked…But I couldn’t find you…I’d forgotten about it…So when I saw you here at the prison…I thought that perhaps…God truly did exist…Thanks to the Thursday that I spent with you,I knew for the first time how it felt to be happy.It was something I couldn’t obtain living by myself…It felt like I understood why people live their lives mingling with others…I won’t put a brave front…And tell you to forget about me, and live your life without letting your past hold you back…I want you to remember me.Just you-…That there was a little person like me…You told me once that even though there was someone you hated enough to want to kill, you were afraid to do it and stopped.I don’t think that you stopped because you were afraid, but rather that you were brave.If I had also done so…Perhaps I could have said to you the word that I could never say…Words…That I haven’t said once…Not since I was born…Probably…Ever since then…Ever since then…I’ve loved you…Live.Even if it’s only for a day…And please find a way…To be happier than anyone else…”

“Tess, Tess, Tessa. Was there ever a more beautiful sound than your name? To speak it aloud makes my heart ring like a bell. Strange to imagine that, isn’t it – a heart ringing – but when you touch me that is what it is like: as if my heart is ringing in my chest and the sound shivers down my veins and splinters my bones with joy.Why have I written these words in this book? Because of you. You taught me to love this book where I had scorned it. When I read it for the second time, with an open mind and heart, I felt the most complete despair and envy of Sydney Carton. Yes, Sydney, for even if he had no hope that the woman he loved would love him, at least he could tell her of his love. At least he could do something to prove his passion, even if that thing was to die.I would have chosen death for a chance to tell you the truth, Tessa, if I could have been assured that death would be my own. And that is why I envied Sydney, for he was free.And now at last I am free, and I can finally tell you, without fear of danger to you, all that I feel in my heart.You are not the last dream of my soul.You are the first dream, the only dream I ever was unable to stop myself from dreaming. You are the first dream of my soul, and from that dream I hope will come all other dreams, a lifetime’s worth.With hope at least,Will Herondale”