“All I could determine was that it must have been a nice thing to see if it was a house you were thinking about moving into. But not so nice if it was the house you were moving out from. I could practically hear Mr Collins, who had taught my fifth-grade English class and was still the most intimidating teacher I'd ever had, yelling at me. "Amy Curry," I could still hear him intoning, "never end a sentence with a preposition!" Irked that after six hears he was still mentally correcting me, I told the Mr. Collins in my head to off fuck.”

“Amy Curry," I could still hear him intoning, "never end a sentence with a preposition!" Irked that after six years he was still mentally correcting me, I told the Mr. Collins in my head to off fuck.”

“Get moving. We need to find that stag so I don’t have to chop your head off.”“I never said you had to chop my head off,” I grumbled, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and stumbling after him.“Run you through with a sword, then? Firing squad?”“I was thinking something quieter, like maybe a nice poison.”“All you said was that I had to kill you. You didn’t say how.”I stuck my tongue out at his back, but I was glad to see him so energized, and I suppose it was a good thing that he could joke about it all. At least, I hoped he was joking.”

“He lives for you, Laurel, and that's not some kind of figure of speech.He lives every day for you.Even after you moved to Crescent City,all he did every day was talk about you,worry about you, wonder what was happening, if he would ever see you again. And even what I told him I was sick of hearing about you, I could tell he was still thinking about you.Every moment of every day.”

“If you were to give me forty such men, I never could be so happy as you. Till I have your disposition, your goodness, I never can have your happiness. No, no, let me shift for myself; and, perhaps, if I have very good luck, I may meet with another Mr. Collins in time.”

“Had I no eyes but ears, my ears would love. That inward beauty and invisible;Or were I deaf, thy outward parts would move each part in me that were but sensible: Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see, yet should I be in love by touching thee.'Say, that the sense of feeling were bereft me, and that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch, and nothing but the very smell were left me, yet would my love to thee be still as much; for from the stillitory of thy face excelling comes breath perfum'd that breedeth love by smelling.”