The Night Circus - Pg 392

   Trapped in silence, Marco traces apologies and adorations across Celia's body with his tongue. Mutely expressing all the things he cannot speak aloud.
   He finds other ways to tell her, his fingers leaving faint trails of ink in their wake. He savors every sound he elicits from her.
   The entire room trembles as they come together.
   And though there are a great many fragile objects contained within it, nothing breaks.
   Above them, the clock continues to turn its pages, pushing stories too minuscule to read ever onward.