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This is for you, all the women of the world Those who lived, all who ever will this is for your love, mine is yours Love is fate, I am here Because you know the meaning of life That begins and ends with a kiss We are knights in shining ardor, who toil for you And our children, it's a circle So they will know this truth Love is the sacred gospel, all we need to know As your son and lover, my spirit lives imbued With, from and by your wisdom and beauty I am here to pay honor and homage to your soul This is and will always be my devotion This I dedicate, because through you I become whole ↗
On that last day, somewhere ahead, inside an unseasonably warm winter night, he’ll say my name and leave a hole no one can fill – something to hold onto when my hands are full. ↗
Nothing stays the same it all gets crushed. It all gets broken. It all passes with time. Only the moment you're in has any meaning." "There are things that stand the test of time, there are things that last. Like love." "Love theres nothing more fragile or ephereal. Love is like fire on a rainy day: you've got to spend all your time protecting it, feeding it, tending it because if you don't it goes out." "There are some loves that last." "No, what lasts is the pain that comes after love. ↗
Maybe in time, once your feelings for Dee deepen—" "That's my problem, Houston. I think I've fallen in love with her and I've got no earthly idea how to make her love me." -Dallas and Houston ↗
The look in his eyes turned a little wild. "That's the only reason I'm letting you go. If I had any choice--" "You do," she said "Wed can all sit here and let him die. Or you can let Eve go on her wild-ass rescue mission and get herself killed. Or you can let sweet, calm, reasonable Claire go do some talking." He shook his head. His long, elegant hands, which looked so at home wrapped around a guitar, closed into fists. "Guess that means there's no choice." "Not really," Claire agreed. "I was kind of lying about that choice thing. ↗
Nefarious. This is what we get when we hire a Yale boy.” “You missed sacrosanct earlier. And taciturn and glowering,” Jack said. “What’s glowering?” “Me, apparently.” Wilkins pointed. “Now that has to be a joke.” He turned to Davis. “You heard that, right?” Davis didn’t answer him, having spun his chair around to type something at his computer. “Let’s see what Google says… Ah – here it is. ‘Glowering: dark; showing a brooding ill humor. ↗
This,’ whispered the Doctor to Romana, ‘is going to be like trying to find a book about needles in a room full of books about haystacks. ↗
