Do you care for me at all? Or do you only need me? - Patricia A. McKillip

You fought for your freedom and won a different kind of prison. I will fight for mine—"
"You can't fight me," Tearle reminded him harshly.
"I know." In the placid light, his face looked chilled and very weary. "But I can die.

He kissed her anyway, lightly on the cheek, before she turned to get her coat, thinking how long he had known her and how little he knew her and how little he knew of how much or little there was in her to know.

It’s an odd thing, happiness. Some people take happiness from gold. Or black pearls. And some of us, far more fortunate, take their happiness from periwinkles.