“Was this love? Because it hurt. It was like a bit of glass stuck somewhere important--his heart or his head, and it was throbbing.”

“The heart is like a woman, and the head is like a man, and although man is the head of woman, woman is the heart of man, and she turns man's head because she turns his heart.”

“My true-love hath my heart and I have his,By just exchange one for the other given:I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss;There never was a bargain better driven.His heart in me keeps me and him in one;My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides:He loves my heart, for once it was his own;I cherish his because in me it bides.His heart his wound received from my sight;My heart was wounded with his wounded heart;For as from me on him his hurt did light,So still, methought, in me his hurt did smart:Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss,My true-love hath my heart and I have his.”

“Oh yeah; his chest still hurt from the blow she'd given him earlier, and was now throbbing quite painfully with wanting her. Keeping her lips occupied while being mindful she wasn't very limber, Ian maneuvered Jessie onto his lap and tucked her head into the crook of his arm to get serious about loving her mouth.”

“Criticism is dangerous, because it wounds a person's precious pride, hurts his sense of importance, and arouses resentment.”

“My chest hurts...It hurts. The sound of his name is like a knife in my heart.”