Children of Liberty

“When I am dead and opened,” she whispers, “you shall find Harry lying in my heart.”

You know that my first thought and last thought and every thought in between is you.”

“Il mio cuore,” she said, “isn’t that what love is? Trying to make happy the ones you love?”

To watch her like this is to believe in all the miracles of the universe. To touch her is to believe in God

It was all he could do, not to fall on his knees every time he saw her.

“Don’t turn away from me. Don’t pull away. You know, you know I can’t take one breath in a day that doesn’t have you in it.”

He wanted to tell her he hadn’t read enough poetry about love to understand what was happening to him.

Talk was not possible with the windows open and the blue moon shining and her moans muffling into his naked collarbone.

Harry, God, wait, Harry!
You flaunt the blaze of yourself in front of me and then you say wait Harry? Harry can’t wait.

Dov’è il tuo tesoro, sarà anche il tuo cuore, she murmurs in Italian, an aphrodisiac even stronger than anarchy.