“I will do what I promised." He whispered. "No matter what. I will not send you into the darkness alone.”

“You whom the soldiers beat,
You who are all but dead,
How the gods love you
And I, alone in the dark,
I was promised the light.”

“In a kinder world," he whispered, "one I promise you I've seen, men and women flirt and dance and love with only the fear of what it would mean without the other in their lives.”

“What I like in a good author is not what he says, but what he whispers.”

“If you love what you do and are willing to do what it takes, it's within your reach. And it'll be worth every minute you spend alone at night, thinking and thinking about what it is you want to design or build. It'll be worth it, I promise.”

“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?”

“You are beautiful,” he whispered to me. “If you say so.” “Do ye not believe me? Have I ever lied to you?” “That’s not what I mean. I mean—if you say it, then it’s true. You make it true.”

“what's the matter?" he asked
"nothing"
"what do you want me to do for you?"
"i want you to be old. ten years older. twenty years older"
what she meant was: i want you to be weak. as weak as i am.”

“I kept staring into the blackness of the woods, drawn into the darkness as I always had been. I suddenly realized how alone I was. (But this is how you travel, the wind whispered back, this is how you've always lived.)”

“You're still trying to protect me. Real or not real," he whispers.
"Real," I answer. It seems to require more explanation. "Because that's what you and I do. Protect each other."”