“Tis not unreasonable for me to prefer the destruction of the whole world to the scratching of my finger.”

“It is not against reason, said the Englishman, to prefer the destruction of the world to a scratch on your finger – how much easier to understand the same price for the gash in your soul.”

“Tis but a scratch!""A scratch? Your arm's off!""No it isn't.""Then what's that?""Oh come on, pansy!”

“Tis safter to be that which we destroyThan by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.”

“My whole life long I learn'd to love,This hour my utmost art I prove.And speak my passion—— heaven or hell?She will not give me heaven? 'Tis well!”

“He props his elbow on the table,absently scratches his temple with his index finger, and I remember exactly what that index finger did to me earlier. How he circled my nipples with that finger, how he slipped it between my legs, drenched it with my wetnessand then brought it up to his mouth, licking it, tasting me, his gaze never leaving mine…”