“He loved her, and he would love her until the day he was too old for loving--but he could not have her. So he tasted the deep pain that is reserved only for the strong, just as he had tasted for a little while the deep happiness.”

“He loved her so passionately he wanted her to be one soul and one body with him; and he was conscious that here, with those deep roots attaching her to the native life, she would always keep something from him.”

“He was the first, the only love her life, and in a nature like hers such passions take deep root and die-hard.”

“He knew he had no right to touch her, crave her like air, but he did both. And when he put his mouth on hers, he recognized the taste of her, like she'd been made just for him.”

“He’d never get over her. He knew that without hesitation or doubt. He loved her. As deeply as it was possible to love another person. And God, he wanted her. Every day. In hit life. As much a part of him as he would be of her.”

“That he would love her no matter what she told him, and that he was the kind of man who loved her already and would love her forever.”

“He loved her.
He wanted her.
He needed her.
And he needed her now.”

“She did not send for him until she was afraid; she was not afraid until he undid her work; he did not undo her work until he was past loving her.”

“He loved her beyond all reason and didn't expect her to love him back. He was just waiting for her to wise up.”

“He had waked her; he had given her what she lacked, and what few men could have given her: the sense of peril, which is the root of love.”