I Shall See You On Blackfriars Bridge,

She Shook Her Head. She Was So Pale Under The Diffuse Lamp-light That She Looked Almost Transparent, As If Simon Could Have Looked Right Through Her. The Way, He Supposed, He Always Had.

I Screwed Her Over. I Didn't Want To See Her Screwed Over By Someone Else.

One Must Look At The Next Step On The Path Ahead, Rather Than The Mountain In The Distance, Or One Would Never Reach One's Goal.

Magnus, I Wish I Had The Nerve To Wear The Kind Of Pants You Do.

She Glanced Down And Saw That A Glove Of Blood Covered Her Lower Arm From The Elbow To The Wrist. The Arm Was Throbbing, Stiff, And Painful. "is This When You Start Tearing Strips Off Your T-shirt To Bind Up My Wound?" She Joked. She Hated The Sight Of Blood, Especially Her Own. "if You Wanted Me To Rip My Clothes Off, You Should Have Just Asked." He Dug Into His Pocket And Brought Out His Stele. "it Would Have Been A Lot Less Painful.