Michelle

“However,' said Dumbledore, speaking very slowly and clearly so that none of them could miss a word, 'you will find that I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me. You will also find that help will be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

“Elizabeth and
Darcy merely looked at one another in awkward silence, until the latter reached both arms around
her. She was frozen-"What does he mean to do?" she thought. But his intentions were
respectable, for Darcy merely meant to retrieve his Brown Bess, which Elizabeth had affixed to
her back during her walk. She remembered the lead ammunition in her pocket and offered it to
him. "Your balls, Mr. Darcy?" He reached out and closed her hand around them, and offered,
"They belong to you, Miss Bennet." Upon this, their colour changed, and they were forced to look
away from one another, lest they laugh.”
― Seth Grahame-Smith, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

“Sought we the Scrivani word-work of Surthur
Long-lost in ledger all hope forgotten.
Yet fast-found for friendship fair the book-bringer
Hot comes the huntress Fela, flushed with finding
Breathless her breast her high blood rising
To ripen the red-cheek rouge-bloom of beauty.

“That sort of thing,” Simmon said absently, his eyes still scanning the pages in front of him.

I saw Fela turn her head to look at Simmon, almost as if she were surprised to see him sitting there.

No, it was almost as if up until that point, he’d just been occupying space around her, like a piece of furniture. But this time when she looked at him, she took all of him in. His sandy hair, the line of his jaw, the span of his shoulders beneath his shirt. This time when she looked, she actually saw him.

Let me say this. It was worth the whole awful, irritating time spent searching the Archives just to watch that moment happen. It was worth blood and the fear of death to see her fall in love with him. Just a little. Just the first faint breath of love, so light she probably didn’t notice it herself. It wasn’t dramatic, like some bolt of lightning with a crack of thunder following. It was more like when flint strikes steel and the spark fades almost too fast for you to see. But still, you know it’s there, down where you can’t see, kindling.”
― Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

“But my real treasure is not that, my dear friend, which awaits me beneath the sombre rocks of Monte Cristo, it is your presence...it is the rays of intelligence you have elicited from my brain, the languages you have implanted in my memory, and which have taken root there with all their philological ramifications. These different sciences that you have made so easy to me by the depth of the knowledge you possess of them, and the clearness of the principles to which you have reduced them- this is my treasure, my beloved friend, and with this you have made me rich and happy.”
― Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo