“Young writers if they are to mature require a period of between three and seven years in which to live down their promise. Promise is like the mediaeval hangman who after settling the noose, pushed his victim off the platform and jumped on his back, his weight acting a drop while his jockeying arms prevented the unfortunate from loosening the rope. When he judged him dead he dropped to the ground.”

“A promise is only as good as the person who makes it. The character of the promiser is what gives the promise its value. His promises are meant to ignite faith and expectation and desire, and then to point us to Him. His promises act to bind our hearts to His. His promises turn our eyes toward Him. When our hearts are occupied with who He is, it will not be hard to believe what He promises to do. The revelation of His person is the secret to trusting His promises.”

“Andrew indulged in a little fantasy in which his father dropped dead, gunned down by an invisible sniper. Andrew visualised himself patting his sobbing mother on the back while he telephoned the undertaker. He had a cigarette in his mouth as he ordered the cheapest coffin.”

“Some romantic you are," Caine complained as he pushed the door open with his back."Whatever happened to women who liked to be swept off their feet?""They got dropped," Diana said flatly.”

“Kicking off the comfortable slides, she ran from him in bare feet, her arms wide like wings, ropes of hair spilling down her back wildly like a glossy cape. His heart had wings of its own, as if he were a young man again with no weights on his heart, but with the wisdom of his present age to know what a tremendous gift this moment was. He caught up with her, seized her hand. They kept running, both running from shadows but running together, throwing off a light that he reflected might keep those shadows cowering in the past where they belonged.”

“He checked her face first to see if she was all right, then dropped his eyes to the keyboard. It was like someone had plugged him in. His eyes widened, his mouth dropped open, and he stretched his fingers.“Will you play it, Blake? Will you?” Livia almost jumped with excitement.Blake covered his smile. He nodded. Livia plopped the keyboard on the kitchen table, which was still moist from where he’d wiped it with the kitchen sponge.Blake kissed her and then spoke solemnly. “I’ll play it for you.”