“A beautiful bridge is a poem.”

“Bridges symbolize peace and human contact.”

“I wish I knew how one is supposed to live. I wish somebody had taught me. Why do people we take for authorities when we are children let us down in this respect? Who is to tell us which is right? The cross, the crescent, the hammer and sickle, the smiling Buddha? do as you would be done by.”

“Colour is a matter of personal opinion.”

“How can a river that rises in a black forest and discharges in a black sea be celebrated as blue?”

“Wisteria Ling,” a familiar voice shouted. “I challenge you.”Sariil stood there, one finger pointed at Wisteria.“To a dance? Sariil, I don’t think you quite understand this assignment,” Wisteria said, though she was amused.“Backing down, are you? Seems the great Wisteria Ling is afraid after our last encounter,” Sariil gloated.“Ugh,” Wisteria said, by way of acceptance.”

“When you look at me that way, I feel so beautiful.""You are beautiful." He signed deep in his chest. His hands slid up and down her arms, caressing her roughly. "So damned beautiful.""So are you." She put a hand to his bare chest, tracing the defined ridges of his musculature. "Like a diamond. Hard and gleaming, and cut with all these exquisite facets. Inside...pure, brilliant fire.”