“How terribly unfair that his whole self aches because of the shape of a shoulder, the soft line of a hip.”
“Not all of it was done by soldiers, or by men. She’d shut her eyes and run her fingers over Jack’s shoulders, down his spine, as a blind person might seek to recognise the shape of something. The shape—the ache in her own flesh—of her love for him.”
“His determined face, guitar at his hips, legs shoulder-width apart, his black hair & dark eyes, the emotion in his voice...”
“Because you have my heart, Virgilia Wessex.” Softly, almost achingly. “Every black ounce of it. Scars and all.”
“Quietly...softly, God taps on our tense shoulders with His love.”
“The desert sharpened the sweet ache of his longing, amplified it, gave shape to it in sere geology and clean slant of light.”