“Sydney: [proposing to Mo] Will you do me the honor of paradoxically reinscribing and destabilizing hegemonic discourse with me?”

“Sydney Katherine Sage,” he said, his green eyes full of love and earnestness. “Would you do a brooding, deadbeat Moroi the honor of being his wife?”

“You fixed yourself. You didn’t need me.”

“No, Sydney.” My voice was ragged. “I do need you. You have no idea how much I need you.”

“Do you wish to honor the Body of the Savior? Do not despise it when it is naked. Do not honor it in church with silk vestments while outside it is naked and numb with cold. He who said, “This is my body,” and made it so by his word, is the same that said, “You saw me hungry and you gave me no food. As you did it not to the least of these, you did it not to me.” Honor him then by sharing your property with the poor. For what God needs is not golden chalices but golden souls.”

“DOCTOR: you cant keep doing this to yourself. being The Last True Good Boy online will destroy you. you must stop posting with honor
ME: No”

“Listen: if there is war down there— and if you think me worthy of it, and capable —you ought to grant me the honor of conducting the campaign. Surely, you don't think me too old?”

“Show me the man you honor, and I will know what kind of man you are”

“I don't wanna do this no mo', but this the only thing that I know.”

“God, of your goodness, give me yourself; you are enough for me, and anything less that I could ask for would not do you full honor. And if I ask anything that is less, I shall always lack something, but in you alone I have everything'.”

“When I propose, angel, trust me, you’ll know it.”