“A twinge at the edge of her lips and she continued, the soft, slow lilt of recitation: "Ancient walls that sing the distant hours.”

“The soft strings of the lute rippled with memories, and the maid's lilting voice made Mary sigh as she closed her eyes. She fell asleep filled with sadness, but without regret.”

“And at that moment, a lilting melody lifts to the moon as a single sparrow sings.”

“She had dreamed that she lay beneath a spreading tree somewhere, a tree that whispered with ten thousand soft lips of green; and the dream continued for a moment even after waking.”

“Her eyes were distant, and she seemed to be listening to that voice that first told her the story, a mother, sister, or aunt. Then her voice, like her singing, cut through the crickets and crackling fire.”

“I watched her, waiting.She smiled. Her lips curved up and the edges, and her chocolate eyes warmed.I’d just admitted to stalking her, and she was smiling.”