“I want tolet her know thoughthat all the nightssleepingbeside hereven the uselessargumentswere thingsever splendidand the hard wordsI ever feared to say can now be said:I loveyou.”

“I will say this one last time Jared and then I never want to talk about this ever again. I loveyou. I don’t care if every man in this room is in love with me because I love you. I don’t want anyone else. Ever. You’re my future now and there is noforce on earth that could change how I feel about us or keep me from you. I will only ever want you for the rest of my life.”

“All I can think is that I want her more than anything. I want her more than I've ever wanted anything, ever.”

“Oh, God, Francesca,Now there’s a good one.Why?Why? Why?” He gave each one a different tenor, as if he were testing out the word, asking it todifferent people.“Why?” he asked again, this time with increased volumeas he turned around to face her.“Why? It’sbecause I love you, damn me to hell. Because I’ve always loved you. Because I loved you when youwere with John, and I loved you when I was in India, and God only knows I don’t deserve you, but Ilove you, anyway.”Francesca sagged against the door.“How’s that for a witty little joke?” he mocked. “I loveyou. I loveyou, my cousin’s wife. I loveyou, theone woman I can never have. I loveyou, Francesca Bridger-ton Stirling.”

“I wanted to fathom her secrets; I wanted her to come to me and say: "I love you," and if not that, if that was senseless insanity, then...well, what was there to care about? Did I know what I wanted? I was like one demented: all I wanted was to be near her, in the halo of her glory, in her radiance, always, for ever, all my life. I knew nothing more!”

“Not to want to say, not to know what you want to say, not to be able to say what you think you want to say, and never to stop saying, or hardly ever, that is the thing to keep in mind, even in the heat of composition.”