“What I felt for you was a combination of respect and affection. There was a closeness I felt through intimate interaction. The affection part is all over with. All that remains is the respect. If I put my arms around you and told you that I missed you, I would be lying. You're alright with me and I wish you well. But you're not me and that makes you one of them and you can only get so close.”

“When you walked away from me last night, I felt like a piece of me had left with you. All I wanted in that moment was to get into that cab with you, put my arms around you and tell you that everything was going to be okay, because I love you.”

“<…>"You're part-goof all class. Never walked in a room, any room, with a woman on my arm, any woman, who's got your looks, your style, the kinda beauty you got and the light that shines from you. So I don't get it. I don't get how a woman leads a life full of shit and comes out of it bein' part-goof and all class. That shit's impossible but there you fuckin' are. Part-goof, all class." I felt my breath coming fast but managed to whisper, "I'm not part-goof." "You're right. I was bein' nice. You're a total goof." "Am not" "Babe, you call me 'hubby'," he pointed out but my breath came faster because he called me "babe" again. "You are my hubby." "No one says hubby," he told me. "I do," I told him. "All right, I'll rephrase. No one but a goof says hubby."….<…>”

“Write me what you're wearing! Is it warm? Write me how you lie! Do you lie there softly? Write me how you look! Is it still the same? Write me what you're missing! Is it my arm? Write me how you are! Have you been spared? Write me what they're doing! Do you have enough courage? Write me what you're doing! Is it good? Write me, who are you thinking of? Is it me? Freely, I've given you only my questions. And I hear the answers, how they fall. When you're tired, I can't carry it for you. If you're hungry, I have nothing for you to eat. And so now I leave the world No longer there, as if I've forgotten you.”

“You're Mara, you're sweet, you're beautiful and I will not forget until the day I die how beautiful it felt to slide inside you with you wrapped around me, see your eyes get wet and know straight in my gut that you felt how beautiful it was too.”

“Of course I need you. I go insane when I see you. You can do almost anything you wish with me. Is that what you want to hear? Almost, Dominique. And the things you couldn't make me do — you could put me through hell if you demanded them and I had to refuse you, as I would. Through utter hell, Dominique. Does that please you? Why do you want to know whether you own me? It's so simple. Of course you do. All of me that can be owned. You'll never demand anything else. But you want to know whether you could make me suffer. You could. What of it?" The words did not sound like surrender, because they were not torn out of him, but admitted simply and willingly. She felt no thrill of conquest; she felt herself owned more than ever, by a man who could say these things, know them to be true, and still remain controlled and controlling — as she wanted him to remain.”