“If Dylan and I had metby chatting on the Netin a room of cyberspaceinstead of face to faceand I hadn't seen his lipsor the way he moves his hipswhen he does that sexy danceand I hadn't had a chanceto look into his eyesand be dazzled by their sizeand all that I had seenwere his letters on my screen,then I might as well confess:I think I would have liked himless.”

“Lord Chesterfield said that since he had had the full use of his reason nobody had heard him laugh. I don't suppose you have read Lord Chesterfield's 'Letters To His Son'?...Well, of course I hadn't. Bertram Wooster does not read other people's letters. If I were employed in the post office I wouldn't even read the postcards.”

“He didn't move, just stood with a pleasant smile. But I wouldn't be fooled. How many times had I faces just like his on the news? Well, maybe not just like his. He was better looking than the average psychos.”

“His was the holiest face I ever saw. My very name turned holy on his tongue. If he had bade me rise and follow to the end of time, I would have gone. If he had bade me die for him, I would have died. When I deserved it least, God gave me most. I think it was the savior's face I saw.”

“Then Drew shuffles into the dining hall. I drop my toast, and my mouth drifts open.Calling him “bruised” would be an understatement. His face is swollen and purple. He has a split lip and a cut running through his eyebrow. He keeps his eyes down on the way to his table, not even lifting them to look at me. I glance across the room at Four. He wears the satisfied smile I wish I had on.”

“I always knew it was ill-fated, but he truly believed I would be his bride. I guess I'd never realized that before. He had taken my mucker hand and looked at my mottled face and believed we would wed. And he hadn't seemed sorry. In fact, he'd swooped me up in a corridor and kissed me.That set me to crying.”