If someone were to autopsy her heart, they'd find traces of life, evidence of eons gone by. Times when she'd been able to feel and the feelings left imprints. Maybe her heart was wearing a cast. Maybe it wasn't sclerosed at all but atrophied, shrunken, and the cast enclosing it was scribbled over with stories written in a dead language. Was there any softness left in there? Any spot that was still unfired, unformed, unglazed? Was there access? Entry? A place still open to impression? No. Her heart was finished. It bore, perhaps, records of life, but it wasn't alive. Too late for decoration. Too late for effects. Further handling could only result in cracks and fractures. People could cut themselves on the edges of her heart, she was sure of it.

Любовта може за един миг да се превърне в отломъци. Но именно сред тези развалини са скрити съкровища. Едно разбито сърце крие в себе си несметни богатства.

No" she jerked back, stared up at him.Her eyes were like thunderclouds. He'd never seen them like that. Shock and fear filled them. Her face was paper white. Her body shuddering."Don't you leave me!" She gripped his shirt and tried to shake him, tears falling from her eyes. "Don't you leave Noah."His head lowered. He touched her lips with his and knew this woman held the best part of him. The memories of the husband he had been, the man he had been. He couldn't destroy that. He refuse to.He pushed her to Jordan slowly, loath to let her go. To release her. Knowing that releasing her was the only way to save the memories she held."Don't you leave!" She screamed the order, eyes blazing, her lips trembling as tears fell and hysteria threatened to overwhelm her. "If you leave me, Noah Blake, if you don't come back when this is over, don't bother coming back at all. He touched her cheek. Ran his thumb over her lips. "You are the best part of me," he whispered. "Always remember that, Sabella. The best part of me."Before she could grab him, hold him to her, he pulled away, grabbed one of the rifles Mike had set on the table across the room. And left.

You don't need this prep but I'm going to give it to you anyway. I can tell, I don't know any of you that well, but I can see it in your faces that and some of you have faces that remind me of what my face looked like when I was younger. I see some of you young people out there and I remember how hard it is to be young. And I remember how hard it is to be rejected the first time when you're young. And so what I want you to do is close your eyes. And I can see you, so don't cheat me here. Close those eyes of yours. Put 'em, real tight. And I want you to imagine the first person who broke you heart. The first person that didn't like you back, the first person that said shitty stuff about you. The first person that dumped you. The first person that changed their phone number because you called them 62 times in one day. The first person that didn't know how good you were and they missed you, they passed you by. Imagine that person and then I want you to sing at the top of your fucking lungs. I want you to sing. I want to heal that with you right now. (sings): Look me in the eye and tell me you dont find me attractive.Look me in the heart and tell me that you wont go. Look me in the eye and promise no love is like our love look me in the heart and unbreak broken it wont happen.

Nie chciałeś wziąć ze mną ślubu w kościele i to złamało serce mojej biednej matce, o czym dobrze wiesz. Tak cię kochałam, że było mi obojętne, czyje serce łamię dla ciebie. Och, że też mogłam być taka głupia. Sobie samej też złamałam serce. Wyrzekłam się wszystkiego, w co wierzyłam i co było mi drogie, bo byłeś taki cudowny i tak mnie kochałeś, że tylko twoja miłość się liczyła. Miłość była jedyną piękną rzeczą na świecie, prawda? Miłość była skarbem, który tylko myśmy posiadali i którego nikt poza nami nie posiadał, i nie mógł posiadać, prawda? Ty byleś geniuszem, a ja byłam twoim całym życiem. Byłam twoją towarzyszką życia i twoim ślicznym czarnym kwiatem. Sentymentalne bzdury. Miłość to jeszcze jedno plugawe kłamstwo. […] Do diabla z miłością. […] Miłość to te wszystkie plugawe sztuczki, których mnie nauczyłeś, a które sam wyczytałeś pewnie w jakichś książkach. Doskonale. Tylko ze ja mam dosyć ciebie i mam dosyć miłości. Twojego rodzaju miłości. Ty pisarzu.