“You're my hero," he murmured.She grinned up at him. "What a coincidence. You're _my_ hero.”

“You're a stone cold killer, Frank. You kill people for a living. And so does this German guy. You aren't heroes. You're what most people fear. You're the antitheses of a hero. You ever think of that?”

“If you think your scars bother me, you're wrong. In my eyes, you're a hero. Your scars are just proof of that.”

“You're a hero and a gentleman, you're kind and honest, but more than that, you're the first man I ever truly loved. And no matter what the future brings, you always will be, and I know that my life is better for it.”

“What do you do when you're no longer the hero of your own story?”

“A brick could be used to represent my hero. My hero obviously doesn’t look like a brick, but since he is my hero I decided to represent him as more handsome and interesting than he really is. Who’s my hero? Any member of Congress.”