“Love should feel like a hand sewn quilt made by grandma, wrapping you up on a cold winter morning.”

“Tabitha's quilt was more than pieces of fabric sewn together. It was a patchwork of souls.”

“So fair, so cold; like a morning of pale spring still clinging to winter's chill.”

“Winter is much like unrequited love; cold and merciless.”

“We feel cold, but we don't mind it, because we will not come to harm. And if we wrapped up against the cold, we wouldn't feel other things, like the bright tingle of the stars, or the music of the aurora, or best of all the silky feeling of moonlight on our skin. It's worth being cold for that.”

“Every morning I was renewed, though. Air and light healed me, over and over. I got to where I depended on it. When I was feeling my worst, I would step out into the yard and put my hands on the branches of the little redbud. It made me feel like I was saying a prayer, to do this. I know that sounds like foolishness, but that little tree was like an altar for me. I stood there in the cold of early winter, wishing for the redbud to bear leaves so that I might put my face against them.”