“Together they will spend a happy hour seated side by side..., while Ivy's tender hand guides Duffy's as he traces out laboriously, in pencil, over and over until he has them off pat, the magic letters of his name. More than the wedding itself, that little ceremony there under the lamp, all silent save for the soft scratching of graphite on paper, will mark the true beginning of their life together.”

“Look,Nik.I can't lose you. We can be partners.With you by my side,and with the band backing us,we could take over. I want you by my side in the High Court?""What does that even mean? We'd be...together? Like, together, together?"Cole gave a sly smile. "We'd rule hand in hand. And as far as being together, we'd be as together as you'd allow."Annoyingly,my cheeks got all warm, and I turned away, frustrated at my reaction. I stood and went over to my desk chair to sit down.Cole chuckled. He pushed himself off the floor and walked closer to me,and the Shade at my shoulder pulled toward him. I wanted to hit it."Stay over there," I said."Why?" He held his hands up, all innocent-like. "Does my nearness affect you? That's what happens when you spend a century with someone.”

“Her graphite pencil scratches the thick paper and it is the soundtrack to my bliss. That, and her sound - dissonant, aching. Her breath and heartbeat and pulse are my new favorite symphony; I'm beginning to learn which notes will play when, and to interpret them.”

“Anyone who cannot cope with life while he is alive needs one hand to ward off a little his despair over his fate...but with his other hand he can jot down what he sees among the ruins, for he sees different and more things than the others; after all, he is dead in his own lifetime and the real survivor.”

“Tessa was laying on her side, her brown hair spread over the pillow, watching Will, whose face was bent over the pages, with a look of tenderness in her eyes, a tenderness mirrored in the softness of Will's voice as he read.”

“He takes my right hand and places it palm down on his chest. Then he traces around it with the pen, craning his neck to see, giving himself double chins.'What are you doing?'He shifts my hand away and starts scratching out letters on his skin. 'I worked out a tattoo - if I had one.'I look at what he's done. He's got the outline of my hand over his heart and in it he's written, Her.”