“After Christian's death he'd just existed. He felt nothing, just a sense of emptiness. In some ways he welcomed that hollowness inside of him. It was easier to be numb, not caring beyond the basic needs to survive. But with spring's return, some intangible force stirred inside him, as if his emotions had been frozen through dead of winter. Now it was time to live again. His spirit awakened.”

“Witch's spell or not, he would take her, possess her- own her. It wasn't his intent when he kissed her. Fires of damnation! He never planned to kiss the wench! It just...happened.”

“He pulled her against his chest, letting her feel his heart thunder its rhythm. Kissing her hair he whispered, the desperation raw, "You are no dream...but flesh and blood. Tell me you are real...oh, please...be real." "Aye, I am real.”

“Words wound deeper than any knife, my lord. Often they fester and never heal.”

“He felt a happiness stirring deep inside him, shining a light into recesses of his soul that had long been devoured by darkness.”

“He just wanted to stop thinking. It was easier that way. The numbness hadn't left him; if anything it was spreading. When he looked at the pictures, there was no emotion, even though he knew there should be. He should be sad.But he wasn't.He felt nothing.The drinking didn't help.Somewhere in the darkest recess of his brain, a button was pushed. Everything he cared about simply vanished. He'd malfunctioned.”

“I tried to whip some feelings up but the inside of my chest was as hollow as an empty rubbish bin; totally, absolutely dried up, with my poor, tiny heart lying at the bottom like a crushed coke can.”