“Amy, listen to me. What I do. The choices I make. They're mine. Only mine. The consequences of those decisions—mine."Mine," he repeated when she sighed heavily. "No one else's."Silence. Only the warm wetness of her tears dampening his shirt.It broke his heart.”

“He rips his mouth from mine as he growls, "Mine. Only mine. Only. Ever. Mine," still slamming into me, pounding me against the wall.”

“By the time those electric blue eyes seek me out in the stands, my heart throbs fiercely in my temples, and my insides bubble with emotion when he spots me. He stares straight into my eyes, and his eyes are only mine, and his smile is only mine, and for this fraction of an instant, nothing else matters but us.”

“You're mine," "Not his. Mine. Only mine. Always mine.”

“When I hear another express an opinion which is not mine, I say to myself, he has a right to his opinion, as I to mine. Why should I question it? His error does me no injury, and shall I become a Don Quixote, to bring all men by force of argument to one opinion? ...Be a listener only, keep within yourself, and endeavor to establish with yourself the habit of silence, especially in politics.”

“His hand rests against the warm skin over her heart. “This is all I ask to be mine. When you are ready.”