“Who shot at you?" Nick asked, taking in the stunned expressions on his staffers' faces. Why couldn't he have fallen for an accountant?”

“Are you going to tell me who she is?" she asked."A psychiatrist," Nick shot back."Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, it's about time," his mother replied.”

“Take a look at my face. Do you see my expression? Does it scare you? It should, because this is the expression of a woman who's fallen off a horse too many times to put up with more shenanigans of the verbal variety.”

“Just consider a child who, absorbed in play, forgets himself—this is the moment to take a snapshot; when you wait until he notices that you are taking a picture, his face congeals and freezes, showing his unnatural self-consciousness rather than his natural graciousness. Why do most people have that stereotyped expression on their faces whenever they are photographed? This expression stems from their concern with the impression they are going to leave on the onlooker. It is "cheese" that makes them so ugly. Forgetting themselves, the photographer, and the future onlooker would make them beautiful.”

“so" he asked. She was stunned and amazed-and happier than she'd ever been before. It couldn't possibly be real, she thought-unless she spoke the truth aloud, with Daniel and the rest of the fallen angels there to witness. "I'm Lucinda," she said. "I'm your angel.”

“Why couldn't you let me have it? Why did you have to take it? Why did you always take everything?”