“He felt as if someone had reached into his chest and cut off a tiny piece of his heart and made him eat it.His heart tasted very bitter to him, and he hated Peter more than ever, although part of him still loved hishandsome older brother and always would.And although the taste had been bitter, he had liked it.Because it was his heart.”

“For a moment Dustfinger felt as if he had never been away- as if he had simply had a bad dream, and the memory of it had left a stale taste on his tongue,a shadow on his heart,nothing more.”

“He had but one consolation, that she had loved him, that her eyes had told him so, that although she did not know his name she knew his heart, and that perhaps, wherever she now was, in whatever undiscoverable place, she loved him still. Perhaps she even thought of him constantly as he did of her. Sometimes, in those unaccountable moments known to every lover, when the heart feels a strange stirring of delight although there is not cause for anything but grief, he reflected: 'It is her own thoughts that are reaching me!... And perhaps my thoughts are reaching her!'Fancies such as these, which an instant later he brushed aside, nevertheless sufficed to kindle a glow in him which was something near to hope.”

“If he had to bring all the bitterness and hatred of the world into his heart, he was not going to be in love with her again.”

“Heart broken-he felt a deep ache in his chest, like that of a sore muscle, and each beat of his heart pained him”

“It suddenly made sense. Only twice in his life had he felt this inexplicable, almost mystical attraction to a woman. He’d thought it remarkable, to have found two, when in his heart he’d always believed there was only one perfect woman out there for him. His heart had been right. There was only one.”