“I love the scent of winter. I love the scent of winter enough to suffer the cold for it.”

“I don’t believe in ghosts and neither should you, Kingsley.””Why not? I’ve been in love with a ghost for thirty years.” Kingsley strolled over to the armchair and sat on the ottoman between the other man’s knees. Soren narrowed his eyes at him. “The body’s not even cold yet. Eleanor’s been gone one day and you’re already trying to get me into bed again?” ”Again?” Kingsley laughed and rolled his eyes. “Always. Are you surprised?” Soren shrugged. “Not really.”

“Master Griffin, I would marry my own mother for the excuse to stab my eyes out with her brooches than to see anything under your kilt," the man's voice said with an elegant aplomb. "Where would you like your guest's things, sir?”

“Broken love is the most dangerous love. It will slice you open with every touch.”

“Let go with me. Let me comfort you with my body...there's no shame in forgetting for a night even if you know you'll remember in the morning.”

“Only afterward did the guilt set in--the guilt that for a few minutes he let himself stop feeling guilty.”

“Stop writing what you know and start writing what you want to know.”

“The kiss surrounded her like air, held her up like water, supported her like the earth and burned her like fire.”

“I'm no optimist", she said as she opened the cabinet door. " I'm just a realist who smiles too much.”

“Hurt but do not harm?” Zach asked. “What’s the difference?” “Hurt is a bruise on the outside.” Nora sipped her mineral water delicately. “Harm is a bruise on the inside. If you’re a masochist, pain feels like love to you. Not being hurt is what hurts.”

“Hurt is a bruise on the outside. Harm is a bruise on the inside.”