“I want to think again of dangerous and noble things. I want to be light and frolicsome. I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing, as though I had wings.”

“I was afraid I had nothing to give. But I do. And I want to give it all to you.”

“I was beautiful, or so my father told me. My oval mirror showed me a face with nothing written on it. I had suitors aplenty but wanted none of them: their doggish devotion seemed too easily won. I had an appetite for magic, even then. I wanted something improbably and perfect as a red rose just opening.”

“I want to kiss you again, Tess.”“Why?”He chuckled, low under his breath. “Why? Because you’re beautiful, and because I want you. And I think you want me too.”

“I want God, I want poetry, I want danger, I want freedom, I want sin.”

“Even though I wanted to experience all these things I was interested in, I couldn't get them. So I had to think critically and culturally about what was available. ”