“Kerosene," he said, because the silence had lengthened, "is nothing but perfume to me.”

“It was with a shock that he felt the touch of Laurent's fingers against the back of his wrist. [...] Laurent was shifting the fabric of his sleeve, sliding it back slightly to reveal the gold underneath, until the wrist cuff he had asked the blacksmith to leave on was exposed between them. 'Sentiment?' said Laurent.'Something like that.'Their eyes met and he could feel each beat of his heart. A few seconds of silence, a space that lengthened, until Laurent spoke.'You should give me the other.”

“He is hotter than a zombie cooked in a dippsy dumpster with kerosene.”

“I emitted some civetlike female stink, a distinct perfume of sexual wanting, that he had followed to find me here in the dark.”

“I know nothing of this silence except that it lies outside the reach of my intelligence, beyond words - that is why this silence must win, must inevitably defeat me, because it is not a presence at all.”

“Is a man satisfied, merely because he is perfumed himself, to mingle with a malodorous crowd?”