I Learned To Play The Instruments Of

I Thought You Were Dead,” She Went On. “i Saw You Fall Down, And—i Thought You Were Dead.

You Could Have Had Anything Else In The World, And You Asked For Me." She Smiled Up At Him. Filthy As He Was, Covered In Blood And Dirt, He Was The Most Beautiful Thing She'd Ever Seen. "but I Don't Want Anything Else In The World.

There's More To Someone Being Lovable Than The Way They Look." "...he Told Me That The Way You Can Tell If A Bug Or A Snake Is Poisonous, Like, Is If It's Got Really Lovely, Bright Markings. The More The Beautiful Its Skin Is, The More Deadly It Is." "all That Pretty Face And Whatnot Just Hides How Twisted Up And Rotten He Is On The Inside.

After All, It Was Never Darnay He Quoted, Only Sydney, Drunk And Wrecked And Dissipated. Sydney, Who Died For Love.

Comforting Someone When They Were Stricken With Loss Was Something Else. It Meant Commitment. It Meant Caring. It Meant You Wanted To Ease Their Pain, And At The Same Time You Were Thanking God That Whatever The Bad Thing Was That Had Happened, It Hadn't Happened To Them.