“Wild Nights—Wild Nights!Were I with theeWild Nights should beOur luxury!Futile—the winds—To a heart in port—Done with the compass—Done with the chart!Rowing in Eden—Ah, the sea!Might I but moor— Tonight—In thee!”
“The night is darkening round me,The wild winds coldly blow;But a tyrant spell has bound me,And I cannot, cannot go.”
“Tis the night—the nightOf the grave's delight,And the warlocks are at their play;Ye think that without,The wild winds shout,But no, it is they—it is they!”
“Wild nights are my glory!”
“Butterflies in her stomach. Because she understood his words from last night now, knew that he’d been on his very, very best behavior. Tonight . . . tonight she’d be tangling with the dominant, wild heart of him.”
“So what’s on the agenda for tonight? (Danger) Migraine, futility, possible death. Same as every night, I guess. (Alexion)”