“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,O’er a plan to venge myself upon that cursed Thursday Next-This Eyre affair, so surprising, gives my soul such loath despising,Here I plot my temper rising, rising from my jail of text.“Get me out!” I said, advising, “Pluck me from this jail of text-or I swear I’ll wring your neck!”

“I lock my door upon myself, And bar them out; but who shall wall Self from myself, most loathed of all?”

“in the synagogue of my heart...I myself jail and the jailed, I go wounded, bite-marked”

“Kent?" I say, and my voice seems to have to rise from inside the fog, taking forever to get from my brain to my mouth."Yeah?""Promise you'll stay here with me?" I say."I promise," he whispers.”

“I swear to you, Nora Grey, on this day, from now and forever, to give myself to you. I am yours. My love, my body, my soul—I place in your possession and protection.” He held out the ring, a single offering, a binding promise.”

“With my foot on the water, I feel The moon outside,Take on the utmost of its power. I rise and go out through the boats.I set my broad soul upon silver, On the skin of the sky, on the moonlight,Stepping outward from the earth onto waterIn quest of the miracle.”