They were five hundred years of heaven. Five hundred years of hell. I can tell you no more. Not right now. Is that enough?

Rough love. Hard, edgy love. Love that made you bleed. Love hard to find, the kind of love you fought to keep.

… it’s you. You with that bloody obsession, that love of other that runs like a seam of gold through you. That life unlike any other. That wild, endless curiosity. Obsession. Even that maddening fucking...

Just drive, rock star. Drive fast. Very fast. Because I’ve got a shopping list ten miles long of the things you’re going to be doing to me.