“I start to grab it so I can it pass it to him. He reaches for it at the same time. Our fingers touch, and the moment they do the fluorescent lights overhead flicker and then fizzle out.Everyone moans, even though we can all still see. There's enough light from outside filtering in, just not enough for us to really focus on the finer details.Nick's fingers stroke mine lightly, so lightly that I'm almost not sure the touch is real. My insides flicker like the art room lights. They do not, however, fizzle. I turn my head to look him in the eye.He leans over and whispers, "It will be hard to be just your friend.”

“He motions to the glue brush. "Can I have some?"I start to grab it so I can pass it to him. He reaches for it at the same time. Our fingers touch, and the moment they do the fluorescent lights overhead flicker and then fizzle out.Everyone moans, even though we can all still see. There's enough light from the outside filtering in, just not enough for us to really focus on the finer details.Nick's fingers stroke mine lightly, so lightly that I'm almost not sure the touch is real. My insides flicker like the art room lights. They do not, however, fizzle. I turn my head to look him in the eye.He leans over and whispers, "It will be hard to be just your friend."The lights come back on."Just a little brownout." The art teacher smiles and holds out her arms. "Welcome to Maine, Zara. Land of a million power failures."Nick's breath touches my ear. "I heard you didn't drive to school. I'll bring you home after cross-country,okay?""Okay," I say, trying to be all calm, but what I really want to do is leap up and do a happy dance all over the art room. Nick is driving me home.”

“You are at my side, dear friends, and God is everywhere. Yet ultimately we are alone, making our way home by the candle of the heart. The light is steady and sure but extends only far enough to see the next step.Many times the light seems to go out. But another light, one held by a stranger or friend, a book or a song, a blackbird or a wild flower, comes close enough so that we can see our path by its light. And in time we realize that the light we have borrowed was always our own.”

“I talk to you as I talk to my own soul," he said, turning me to face him. He reached up and cupped my cheek, fingers light on my temple. "And Sassenach," he whispered, "Your face is my heart.”

“Cause I am strong and I can prove itAnd I got my dreams to see me throughIt's just a mountain, I can move itAnd with faith enough there's nothing I can't doAnd I can see the light of a clear blue morningAnd I can see the light of brand new dayI can see the light of a clear blue morningAnd everything's gonna be all rightIt's gonna be okay [lyrics from "Light of a Clear Blue Morning"]”

“Just as a painter needs light in order to put the finishing touches to his picture, so I need an inner light, which I feel I never have enough of in the autumn.”