“Let still woman takeAn elder than herself: so wears she to him,So sways she level in her husband's heart,For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,More longing, wavering, sooner to be lost and warn,Than women's are.”

“For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won,Than women's are. ...For women are as roses, whose fair flow'rBeing once display'd doth fall that very hour.Viola: And so they are; alas, that they are so!To die, even when they to perfection grow!”

“Maybe this is why Misty loved him. Loved you. Because you believed in her so much more than she did. You expected more from her than she did from herself.”

“We must not be so ready to fancy ourselves intentionally injured. We must not expect a lively young man to be always so guarded and circumspect. It is very often nothing but our own vanity that deceives us. Women fancy admiration means more than it does.”

“He wanted to believe her, but more importantly he believed in her because she knew already that he was quite lost, more lost than she would ever be, and yet she still believed in him.”

“Outwardly, other than her hair, she had not changed much. She was still more or less the same cool, aloof woman who garnered more respect than affection. On the inside, however, it had been impossible to return to the person she used to be.”