“Can I take a moment here to tell you both how cute your accents are when you're angry?"Wesley and his father both looked at her, Wesley in shock, his father in disgust."Okay, that's a 'no' then. Carry on.”

“Weston: Look at my outlook. You don't envy it, right?Wesley: No.Weston: That's because it's full of poison. Infected. And you recognize poison, right? You recognize it when you see it?Wesley: Yes.Weston: Yes, you do. I can see that you do. My poison scares you.Wesley: Doesn't scare me.Weston: No?Wesley: No.Weston: Good. You're growing up. I never saw my old man's poison until I was much older than you. Much older. And then you know how I recognized it?Wesley: How?Weston: Because I saw myself infected with it. That's how. I saw me carrying it around. His poison in my body.”

“When a father gives to his son, both laugh; when a son gives to his father, both cry.”

“When Søren touched her she became his. When Wesley touched her, she became herself.”

“For the first stretch of road Olivia’s eyes were sealed shut, her breath held hostage in her lungs.“You might want to open your eyes,” Wesley called back knowingly, his muffled voice breaking through both of their helmets. “And don’t forget to breathe.”

“She's your mother. I asked, Plus, you do look a bit like her. When you're angry, you both get these tense lines around your mouth...Look, there they are.”