“I don't just wantyour heartI want your flesh,your skinand blood and bones,your voice, your thoughtsyour pulseand most of all yourfingerprints,everywhere.”

“Your beliefs become your thoughtsYour thoughts become your wordsYour words become your actionsYour actions become your destiny.Mahatma Ghandi,” he said. “There’s more, but I can’t remember it all.”

“it's like your red blood is everywhere, not just in vessels.”

“Though you may be a wanderer, living out your days in exile, home is with you always, in blood-song and bone map, and in the echo of your mother’s voice as you tell her favorite tale to your children or the children who gather around you in the land of your exile. Home is your most constant companion.”

“You asked me who I belong to," he whispered. "I belong to you. Your blood is my blood, your bones my bones. The first time you saw me, I looked familiar, didn't I? Just like you looked familiar to me.”

“I miss the sound of your voiceAnd I miss the rush of your skinAnd I miss the still of the silenceAs you breathe out and I breathe in”