“Then kiss me, Claire," he whispered, "And know that you are more to me than life, and I have no regret.”

“Shh,” he whispered. “You asked me if I loved you. I do. I love you more than life itself. Nothing matters in this world but that you live. Can you do that for me? Can you live?”

“Blood of my Blood," he whispered, "and bone of my bone. You carry me within ye, Claire, and ye canna leave me now, no matter what happens, You are mine, always, if ye will it or no, if ye want me or nay. Mine, and I wilna let ye go.”

“She throws a kiss, and bids me run
In whispers sweet as roses’ breath;
I know I can not win the race,
And at the end, I know, is death.”

“What you should really be sorry for," he continued, "is that for the rest of my life, I'll have to avoid wine cellars to keep from thinking about you."
"Why? Was kissing me that bad?"
A devil-solf whisper. "No sweetheart. It was that good.”

“"Maybe you should have thought about that before you kissed me," he said.
"I kissed you?"
"Don't worry, it wasn't that memorable for me, either."”

“Sam looked at me soft. And she hugged me. And I closed my eyes because I wanted to know nothing but her arms. And she kissed my cheek and whispered so nobody could hear.
"I love you.”

“I lean over and put my good ear to his lips, which tickle me as he whispers. "Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me any time you like it.”

“Just so you know Gallagher Girl,' he whispered softly, 'I'm going to kiss you now.”

“He caressed my cheek.
"You came for me," I whispered.
"Always," he told me.”