“He climbed on the bed, lay back and raised his knees back to his chest, hoping that Francis' first sight on entering the curtain would be Joe’s hole inviting him in. Maybe it was a reaction to shock or the close proximity of death or anticipation of Francis’ return, but Joe had never felt so turned on.”

“Did Anton try the carrots?”“I believe so. Flavio seems happier, at least on that count, and I have noticed now that Anton shudders whenever he sees anything vaguely resembling a carrot. Which I think is rather sad, as they are a beautiful root vegetable.”“Yes,” said Joe seductively, remembering the huge carrots back on the kitchen table.”

“If he had any compassion for me' cried her husband impatiently 'he would not have danced half so much! For God's sake, say no more of his partners. Oh! that he sprained his ankle in the first dance!”

“If you think it means I'm asking you to move in with me, you'd be right." Her expression turned more serious. "If you also think it means that I wake up every morning wondering what I did to deserve having you back in my life, well, you'd be right about that, too."Jack just sat there for a moment, just... stunned. No one had ever said anything like that to him."Come here," he said huskily. He grabbed her chair and pulled it toward his. He kissed her, softly at first, then his hand moved to her back and pushed her close as his emotions got the better of him. He pulled back to hold her gaze. "I love you, Cameron. You know that, right?"She kissed him back, whispering the words in his ear. "I love you, too.”

“I RAISED AN EYEBROW AT HIM, AND HE STUCK OUT HIS TONGUE AND CROSSED HIS EYES WHEN JOSH TURNED AWAY FROM US TO GET THE FLYERS. IT WAS SUCH A DORKY MOVE THAT I SHOULD HAVE FELT SORRY FOR HIM, BUT IT WAS GENUINELY...CUTE”

“Gauguin was a stockbroker in Paris, married, had five kids. One day he came home from work and told his wife he was leaving, that he was through supporting the family, that he had had enough. Just like that he fucking took off. He said he had always felt that he was a painter, so he moved to a rat-infested shithole and started painting. His wife begged him to come back, his bosses told him he was insane, he didn't care, he was following his heart. He left Paris, moved to Rouen, went from Rouen to Arles, from Arles to Tahiti. He was searching for peace, contentment, trying to fill that fucking hole he felt inside, and he believed he could fill it. He died in Tahiti, blind and crazy from syphilis, but he did it. He filled his fucking hole, made beautiful work, made beautiful, beautiful work... It takes a brave man to walk away, to care so much that he doesn't care about anything else, to be willing to obey what he feels inside, to be willing to suffer the consequences of living for himself. Every time I stand before his work it makes me cry, and I cry because I'm proud of him, and happy for him, and because I admire him.”

“Mr. Bennet's expectations were fully answered. His cousin was as absurd as he had hoped, and he listened to him with the keenest enjoyment.”