“Do I still 'ave an eye?" I laughed. "Still there." He straightened with a sigh. "Too bad. I hear girls take a liking to a man with an eye patch." "Yes, when the eye was lost in some wildly romantic fashion like a sword fight or pistol duel. Not from smacking it on the eyepiece of a microscope. And you hardly need any more help with the ladies.”

“You like blue eyes, huh?""Yes. I do. I like blue eyes.”

“You want some more?" Christa asked, her right eye drooping like an old lady's pantyhose. It was a sign that Christa was drunk. She said it was a form of lazy eye; I just thought it was hysterical and laughed although I tried to hide it with an inconspicuous cough.”

“He’s fighting the world.” And now, I watch as the underdog in the middle of the circle fights on and stands and falls and returns to his haunches and feet and fights on again. He fights on, no matter how hard he hits the ground. He gets up. Some people cheer him. Others laugh now and rubbish him.Feeling comes out of me.I watch.My eyes swell, and burn.“Can he win?”I ask it, and now, I too cannot take my eyes off the boy in the circle.”

“I’m still scared, still wanting to run at times when I look into your eyes and wonder how I will ever be the sort of man you deserve. I want so much to deserve you. To be worthy of a woman like you.”

“He sighed and then focused his eyes right on me. It was like drowning, drowning in seas of green. There was nothing in the world except for those eyes."I want to kiss you, Rose," he said softly. "And I want you to want me too.”