“You think the only battles fought are done so with rifles, and the only wounds that kill draw blood. You think courage is loud, boisterous, and proud. Mrs. Warner, I don't think you have a clue as to what this memorial truly represents."-Clay to Meg”

“I was proud of you today, handling William Long the way you did." Her fingers stilled. "What did you think of him the first time you met him?" she asked quietly. "That he was the kind of man you should have married." "And now you don't think that anymore?" "Now, it doesn't matter. You're married to me." "I was the night you met him." Jake's eyes met and held hers in the moonlight. "No, you weren't. Not really." His arm tightened around her. "But you are now.”

“I know you don't think he's good enough for me, but then you don't think any man is good enough for me.”

“If he wasn't angry, he certainly did a good imitation. His voice was clipped and as hard as stone. She wrung her hands together. "I love you. Clay.""No, you don't."Meg felt as though he'd just slapped her. "Yes, I do. When you leave this town, I'll go with you."Narrowing his eyes, he studied her. "Will you marry me?""Yes.""Will you give me children?""If I can. Kirk and I were never able to conceive, but if I can have children, I want to have yours.""In this town that we move to, wherever it is, will you walk down the street with me?""Of course.""Holding my hand?""Yes.""And the hands of my children?""Yes."He unfolded his arms and took a step toward her. She wanted to fling herself into his embrace, but something hard in his eyes stopped her."And what happens, Mrs. Warner, when someone you know rides through town and points at me and calls me a yellow-bellied coward? What will you do then? Will you let go of my hand and take my children to the other side of the street? Will you pretend that you haven't kissed me, that you haven't lain with me beneath the stars?" With disgust marring his features, he turned away. "You think I'm a coward. Go home.""I don't think that. I love you."He spun around. "You don't believe in that love, you don't believe in me.""Yes, I do."He stalked toward her. She backed into the corner and bent her head to meet his infuriated gaze."How strongly do you believe in our love?" he asked, his voice ominously low. "If they threatened to strip off your clothes unless you denied our love, would you deny our love?"He gave her no chance to respond, but continued on, his voice growing deeper and more ragged, as though he were dredging up events from the past."If they wouldn't let you sleep until you denied our love, would you deny our love so you could lay your head on a pillow?"If they stabbed a bayonet into your backside every time your eyes drifted closed, would you deny our love so your flesh wouldn't be pierced?"If they applied a hot brand to your flesh until you screamed in agony, would you deny our love so they'd take away the iron?"If they placed you before a firing squad, would you say you didn't love me so they wouldn't shoot you?"He stepped back and plowed his hands through his hair. "You think I'm a coward. You don't think I have the courage to stand beside you and risk the anger of your father. I'd die before I turned away from anyone or anything I believed in. You won't even walk by my side."He looked the way she imagined soldiers who had lost a battle probably looked: weary, tired of the fight, disillusioned."You don't believe in me," he said quietly. "How can you believe in our love?”

“Meg forgot about cautioning him to be quiet. She forgot about everything but watching the care with which he wrapped a blanket around Mama Warner before gingerly lifting her into his arms and cradling her against his chest."Comfortable?" he asked."You know how to hold a woman so she feels precious. Makes me wish I was sixty years younger.”

“I felt the need to be rebellious. A woman should have a moment in her life when she’s rebellious, don’t you think?”

“It seems melancholy weather.”“I prefer to think of it more as weather designed for reflection.”“You are the eternal optimist.”