Darla : Young love.
Angelus : Give it a century.
James : A century? A mere hundred years.
Elisabeth : I would need a thousand to sketch the perfect plane of your face.
James : And I would need ten thousand just to name the color of your eyes.
Angelus : They're green. But take your time.
Elisabeth : You know neither poetry, nor love, Angelus.
Darla : He knows other things. - Marvelously vile and ripping things.
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