“I’ve never fully trusted people who don’t like dogs. They rarely turn out well.”
“And so the Scots grew restless, moaning all the time as only they could.”
“The prince put the dagger on the table. “Sorry.”
Yorick bent forward and looked up into his eyes. “Don’t forget our respective places here. I’m your clown. Your plaything. Your toy. Scarcely human. No need to apologise.”
“If you wanted reflections on the nature of the universe and your place in it, you should have stayed in school. You want fart noises and cock jokes, I’m your man.”
“What kind of love demands the life of another? A child at that?”
“Danish love, my sweet. Can’t you smell it?”
“Where on earth do you get a rose in Elsinore in the middle of winter?” “Don’t you want it?” She took the flower from him, kissed his cheek. No bristles. No beard. A clean-shaven man with a kind and amiable face. Scheming. She didn’t doubt it. But he was a diplomat by training. It was only to be expected. And if he’d lacked those skills perhaps neither of them would have managed Old Hamlet’s death, the marriage, the succession so easily.”
“When a man ain't got no ideas of his own," said Scipio, "he'd ought to be kind o' careful who he borrows 'em from.”
“His face was glistening with cold. He was beautiful, the snow in his eyelashes like diamonds, the cool pink of his cheeks, the wet red of his lips. He was staggering toward her.
"I have to leave you." His breath came in uneven bursts. "You won't be safe with me."
Whatever he was, he could not be bad. An amazing and terrible thought entered Valerie's mind, clearing away all others.
"Peter..."
She stepped toward him, arms out. They gave in to each other, finally, their bodies fitting together. Her fingers warmed his cheek, and his arms slipped underneath her crimson cloak as her long blond hair blew around them. Enveloped in a shelter of white, standing out in black and red, were just the two of them. Nothing else anywhere. Valerie knew that she could never be apart from him, that she was what he was and that she would be his always.
She didn't care if he was the Wolf or not. And if he was a Wolf, then she would be one, too.
She made he choice and brought her lips to his.”
“All the effort went into getting there and then I had nothing left. I thought I'd got somewhere, then I found I had to go on.”
“When a chance for real happiness comes by, grab it with both hands and devour it. If it lasts five minutes or five lifetimes, it's still worth it.”
“Characters in a novel or a play who act all the way through exactly as one expects them to... This consistency of theirs, which is held up to our admiration, is on the contrary the very thing which makes us recognise that they are artificially composed.”
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