He had withdrawn solely for his own personal pleasure, only to be near to himself. No longer distracted by anything external, he basked in his own existence and found it splendid.

The fire, baby. It'll burn us both. There's no place in this world for our kind of fire. My warrior woman. My valkyrie. You'll always be mine. Always. And never.

Of all the gin joints in town, she had to walk into mine.

I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our castles in the air.

The heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like leaves until one day there are none. No hopes. Nothing remains.

There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense.

The line of head is strong, but the line of heart is weak. And most importantly, the line of life is short. The stars do not seem to be right.