“You wound me, prince." Puck looked anything but hurt, and I crossed my arms. "Um, I guess you're still mad about that whole harpy fiasco. I swear, I thought those caves were empty.”

“About the trees my arms I wound;Like one going mad I hugged the ground;I raised my quivering arms on high;I laughed and laughed into the sky.”

“Those were the words I thought were going to put everything back together again: but they didn't. I was hurt, angry and lost. I couldn't look at my husband without feeling pain. I didn't want him to touch me, or hold me, or comfort me. It was gone. He stood there, waiting for me to say something, anything that would let him know we still had a chance.”

“I'm tired of waiting by the phone, and second-guessing what a guy says and trusting someone not to hurt me. Again. I've been storming the relationship castle for fifteen years, and I still don't have my prince. I've got a bunch of battle scars from the field and I want to go home and nurse my wounds. I don't want to fight anymore.”

“I know you're mad at me," he says, looking down at me. His eyes and his words are full of remorse, but the apology still doesn't come. "I need you to be mad at me, Sky. But I think I need you to still want me here with you even more.”

“My friend's wiry arms were around me and he was leading me to the chair."You're not hurt, Watson? For God's sake say that you're not hurt!"It was worth a wound -it was worth many wounds- to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay beyond that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain.”