“I grew up kissing books and bread,”

“I can’t believe you grew up and ate a monkey. Worse, I can’t believe I let a guy who ate a monkey kiss my mouth.”Honey,I kissed more than your mouth.”

“... Once I start a book I finish it. That was the way one was brought up. Books, bread and butter, mashed potato - one finishes what's on one's plate. That's always been my philosophy.”

“...but then I think how I grew sick of kissing him. How can you spend your life with a person you're sick of kissing?”

“I grabbed my book and opened it up. I wanted to smell it. Heck, I wanted to kiss it. Yes, kiss it. That's right, I am a book kisser. Maybe that's kind of perverted or maybe it's just romantic and highly intelligent.”

“This was the kiss I had waited for so long - a kiss born by the river of our childhood, when we didn't yet know what love meant. A kiss that had been suspended in the air as we grew, that had traveled in the world in the souvenir of a medal, and that had remained hidden behind piles of books. A kiss that had been lost and now was found. In the moment of that kiss were years of searching, disillusionment and impossible dreams.”