“Do you love me?” “Yes,” I breathed. “Always?” [...]“Always,” I whispered.”

“How much do you love me?"She drew in a breath and let it out. "Too much.""Too much is just enough for this man.""And do you love me?" she whispered."I have always loved you. Always. You know that.”

“—What do the children say?—There's a thing the children say.—What do the children say?—They say: Will you always love me?—Always.—Will you always remember me?—Always.—Will you remember me a year from now?—Yes, I will.—Will you remember me two years from now?—Yes, I will.—Will you remember me five years from now?—Yes, I will.—Knock knock.—Who's there?—You see?("Great Days," Forty Stories)”

“Do you want me to kiss you. Anastasia?" he whispers softly in my ear."Yes," I breathe."Where?""Everywhere.”

“You love me,” I whisper.His eyes widen further and his mouth opens. He takes a huge breath as if winded. He looks tortured—vulnerable.“Yes,” he whispers. “I do.”

“And the answer is yes. I have loved you. I always have, and I always will.”