“Yes, indeed, I am the stuff, the prize property, the recaptured trophy he will put up on the mantelpiece, in a rage every time I move a millimeter or look less polished, less tarted up than he thinks I should look. In a rage, every time I disappoint him. Which will happen every day.”

“In all my life I'd never been approached this way, the car pulling up, the Where you going? It was something I wish had happened hundreds of times. I was a looker - someone who looked over at every car at every traffic light, hoping something would happen, and almost never finding anyone looking back - always everyone looking forwards, and every time I felt stupid. Why should people look at you? Why should they care?”

“I think we're made up of all these different pieces and every time someone goes, you're left with less of yourself.”

“Every day I like what and who I am less and less,” he whispered more quietly than before,“because I know you wish for a different life. And I cannot give it to you.”

“I am disappointed every morning that I wake up. And I am disappointed by the feeling Of waking up next to you.”

“That, he said as he kissed her nose."Is a shame.You should be told you're beautiful every day.Because every day it's true, and every time i see you ,you grow in your beauty.Just because people don't say the words, doesn't mean its any less true,Kace.”