“I want you to tell me why you have a pair of broken angel wings on your shoulder. I want you to tell me why you cut your wrists and I want to know why and how you play and sing the way you do, but most of all I want you to tell me what I need to do to be a good enough man for you.”

“It's just that you don't respect me enough to respect what I want. I have to want what you want or it doesn't count or its's no good. Well, I don't want what you want. And I don't see why I have to. I mean, as long as I respect what you want and let you live your life, why do you care?”

“What the hell do you want from me?” “What are you trying to do to me?”“Stop! Just stop!” he spits.“Why? What else needs to be said? I think you’ve told me enough lies for a lifetime.”“No more lies,” he says angrily. “I don’t even want to talk to you anymore. I just want to hear you tell me that you don’t feel anything for me. That you want me to leave you alone and never come back. Then I’ll go. If that’s what you really want, I’ll go.”“Don’t. Please don’t say it.”“Why?”“Because I don’t want you to. I need you to come back to me. Not to help me. Or to help my father. I’m done with that. I don’t want your help. It all boils down to you. I just want you.”“I just want you.”“Okay.”

“Why? Why don't you want to go with me?"She huffed. "It's not that I don't want to go with you, it's that I'm not going at all.""So you do want to go with me."Cinder locked her shoulders. "It doesn't matter. Because I can't.""But I need you.”

“I . . . Why do you want me to?” There was a flicker of something in Greta’s look. I couldn’t tell whether it was a flicker of love or regret or meanness, and then she said, “Why wouldn’t I want you to?” Because you hate me, I thought, but I didn’t say it.”

“What was it? Why won't you tell me?""I don't want to break down your illusions.""My dear man, I have no illusions about you.""I mean illusions about yourself.”