“Until you've lived through all that," he said, "don't you ever complain about what we have. Because to me... to me..." He choked on the words, but he barely paused before he continued. "This - us - is heaven. I can't bear to hear you say otherwise.”

“Was [Sisyphus] from your province?'I don't know. I don't know if he's real,' Ky says. 'If he ever existed.''Then why tell his story?' I don't understand, and for a second I feel betrayed. Why did Ky tell me about this person and make me feel empathy for him when there's no proof that he ever lived at all?Ky pauses for a moment before he answers, ...'Even if he didn't live his story, enough of us have lived lives just like it. So it's true anyway.”

“He drops his head, his cheek pressed to mine, and he whispers in my ear. "If we go, we can't come back. Not ever. Things will never be the same."I lean into him, needing to feel every inch of him, wishing he could absorb me and put me out of my misery."I'm not perfect Cami. I'm not a thoroughbred like he is. I never will be."I'm under his spell, but I hear what he's saying. And I don't care. I don't care about anything but having Trick, having him in my life, having as much as he can give me. "I hear sometimes the wild ones are the best."He says nothing at first, but I can almost hear his smile as he no doubt recognizes his own words.”

“I can't stop thinking about you," he whispers. He moves in, closer, lips pausing inches from mine. Wraps his arms around me, pulling me into him. I let out a quick gasp of air. "I dream about you," he murmurs, eyes grasping mine."You don't sleep," I choke, feeling a delirious passion coursing through my veins."I dream about your smile. About touching you. I dream about being with you. Like this.”

“He said someday I would come home and regret ever leaving."She murmured something, perhaps her own remembrance of a place lost. "Do you?" she said after some time."Yes . . . I mean to say, no," he corrected. "Oh, bother, I don't know.""Don't fret over it. You can't get back the time you've lived, and all you have is what is before you," she said sagely."Egads, I find myself betrothed to a bluestocking," he teased. "Who was that, Aristotle?"She laughed. "No, Aunt Bedelia.”

“He turned back, and there was an odd light in his eyes. “Did I ever tell you that I can't live without you?” he said.“No,” she said. “You can tell me about it when we survive.” She could barely breathe, death was eating its way toward her, and she wanted to laugh out loud with the joy of it.”