“Because your eyes are slant and slow,Because your hair is sweet to touch,My heart is high again; but oh,I doubt if this will get me much.”

“This is my heart. You are touching it with your left hand. You are touching it with your left hand, not because you are left-handed, although you might be, but because I am holding it against my heart. What you are feeling is the beating of my heart. It is what keeps me alive.”

“Oh, Elizabeth," he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on her mouth, "I love you so much. You must believe me.""I believe you," she said softly, "because in your eyes, I see what I feel in my heart.”

“I crossed the room, and what you did was to feel my hair over and over again and in different ways, touch it, with the palm of your hand... felt it, strands of hair, with your fingers, touched it as if it were cloth, the way a child touches its favorite surfaces.”

“I long for your embrace, your warmth, and your gentleness. I crave your touch. Your body, your mind, your words move me. I fear I am not capable of expressing the depth of my emotion, for I have never known such a feeling and never will again. As much as I have striven to remain detached, my heart and my soul belong to you, now and forever.”

“Since you can't touch me, you made something that could, didn't you?" I said."Yes."My world slowed and I closed my eyes. "I am going yo give you my heart noe," I whispered. "Please don't break it again.”