“Ico took the girls hand in his own, the gesture feeling intensely familiar, as the sun shone brightly over the end of their long story.”

“Ico thrust out his left hand, shouting to the girl. She had already sunk to her knees.For the space of a breath, barely long enough to blink, she hesitated. Her eyes focused on Ico, questioning, trying to peer into the bottom of his soul. Where her gaze fell on him, he felt cool, as though clear water washed over him. He gasped with the sensation.She thrust out her arm and grabbed his hand.”

“I can feel his soul through his lips. It's telling me a story of agony over how long it's waited for this moment and how it never wants it to end.”

“His smile is like the sun rising huge and bright over the Siera Sangre.”

“I like to compare the holiday season with the way a child listens to a favorite story. The pleasure is in the familiar way the story begins, the anticipation of familiar turns it takes, the familiar moments of suspense, and the familiar climax and ending.”

“He places his hands over mine, the feeling so warm and familiar. 'Those days back there, in the house. That is my world. That is my truth,' he says. 'That is my ocean.”