“My hero finally found me in that too-high tower, rescued me from it's cold walls, set me down among free men and bolted.Freedom, with all it's possibilities, just feels cold and lonely. I want to go back to my tower. I need those walls. I need the protection.The walls were always my true plus-one. ”

“Why do all men seem to think they need to rescue a woman? Are we not capable of rescuing our damn selves? Why do I need to be rescued? I don’t need a man to rescue me, and I certainly don’t need no wallbanging, Purina-fucking, listening-at-my-wall-like-a-goddamn-psycho coming over here to rescue me! You got that, mister?”

“I have always tried to live in an ivory tower, but a tide of shit is beating at its walls, threatening to undermine it.”

“Who am I? What am I doing here? I fall between the cold walls of human malevolence, a white figure fluttering, sinking down through the cold lake, a mountain of skulls above me. I settle down to the cold latitudes, the chalk steps washed with indigo. The earth in its dark corridors knows my step, feels a foot abroad, a wing stirring, a gasp and a shudder.”

“Whoa,” I pinned my dress under my legs and nudged his chest with my elbow. “Put me down. This is kidnapping.”“No, it's not,” he stated with a smile, keeping his eyes on the path ahead, “It's is a rescue.”“Rescue?” I scoffed, but imagined a white horse waiting for us as we burst through the doors. “I don't need to be rescued.”He stopped walking and looked down at me; I shrank into his arms a little. “The fair maiden, who is locked in the darkest tower, guarded by the cruellest beast, never believes herself to be in danger, only suffering from sorrows untold and a heart untouched.”

“It seems to me that my whole life I've been standing on some tower or a pillbox or a trampoline, waving the names of writers, as if we needed rescue. And the first person I had to rescue was myself.”