Sam

“She was a lovely blonde, with fine teeth. She had gold and pearls for her dowry; but her gold was on her head, and her pearls were in her mouth.”
― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

“M'sieur, I am as a slave to my wife." He kissed the tips of his fingers. "I am as the dirt beneath her feet." He clasped his hands. "I must bestow on her all that she desires, or die!"

"Pray make use of my sword, " invited his Grace. "It is in the corner behind you.”
― Georgette Heyer, These Old Shades

“never write a line you'd be ashamed to read at your own funeral.”
― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of the Island

“Don't you recognize me?'
'No.'
'Eponine.'
Marius bent hastily forward and saw that it was indeed that unhappy girl, clad in a man's clothes.
'How do you come to be here? What are you doing?'
'I'm dying,' she said.
There are words and happenings which arouse even souls in the depths of despair. Marius cried, as though starting out of sleep:
'You're wounded! I'll carry you into the tavern. They'll dress your wound. Is it very bad? How am I to lift you without hurting you? Help, someone! But what are you doing here?'
He tried to get an arm underneath her to raise her up, and in doing so touched her hand. She uttered a weak cry.
'Did I hurt you?'
'A little.'
'But I only touched your hand.'
She lifted her hand for him to see, and he saw a hole in the centre of the palm.
'What happened?' he asked.
'A bullet went through it.'
'A bullet? But how?'
'Don't you remember a musket being aimed at you?'
'Yes, and a hand was clapped over it.'
'That was mine.'
Marius shuddered.
'What madness! Your poor child! Still, if that's all, it might be worse. I'll get you to a bed and they'll bind you up. One doesn't die of a wounded hand.'
She murmured:
'The ball passed through my hand, but it came out through my back. It's no use trying to move me. I'll tell you how you can treat my wound better than any surgeon. Sit down on that stone, close beside me.'
Marius did so. She rested her head on his knee and said without looking at him:
'Oh, what happiness! What bliss! Now I don't feel any pain.”
― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables