“Can't you see me as king of the Hereford ranchers, Lucy?""Oh, I can see you, all right... I can see you riding out on your beautiful palomino checking the herd... There you sit, silhouetted against the evening sky... Sucking your thumb and holding that stupid blanket!”

“Beautiful, beautiful girl I can see the sadness you hold in your eyesBeautiful, beautiful girl I see all of the pain you bury insideBeautiful, beautiful girl How much I long to make you smileMake you happy for awhileBring back the back the light to your lifeBeautiful, beautiful girlHave you let me love you for awhileBeautiful, beautiful girl”

“So go ahead. Do it—open the book. See? You see me, right? And I see you. See? I am reading your face, your eyes, your lips. I know the sufferdust on your brow. I can see you reading and I can tell, too, when you are here, when you’re absent, what you’ve read and how it affects you. There is no more hiding. I see your chords—your fractures, your cold gifts, where and when you’ve hurt people and why. It’s all right there—your stories are written right there on your face!”

“I look at you, and I see the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth. Inside and out you are beautiful. I know you better than anyone else could ever know you, because I can see into your thoughts and read your memories. The very light in you, our tremendous capacity for loving, humbles me.”

“If you’re given the opportunity to look deep enough, you can see a person’s spirit in their eyes but usually, they are guarded, kept safe. Not you, my tigress, the night of your claiming, even in the moonlight, I could see your spirit shining from your eyes. You hold your spirit close to the surface for all to behold and it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

“How do I get her back?”“I don’t know. You could charm your way out of this with any other girl, but Jane can see right through your BS.”“I know. I am so screwed.”“Sucks to be you.”