I don't mean to judge a book by its cover, but that man is all cover and no pages.

In a thousand years, when I’ve all but forgotten how to love yet again, you’ll flit back into my heart, and I’ll weep, wondering what happened to my mad love.

I have witnessed dar too much, and you have given me too little. Finally, I can see.

I've taken more pleasant shits than you, Mizora.

Go on. Give the worgs some Booze! They'll love it.