“No front porches. My uncle says there used to be front porches. And people sat there sometimes at night, talking when they wanted to talk, rocking, and not talking when they didn't want to talk. Sometimes they just sat there and thought about things, turned things over. My uncle says the architects got rid of the front porches because they didn't look well. But my uncle says that was merely rationalizing it; the real reason, hidden underneath, might be they didn't want people sitting like that, doing nothing, rocking, talking; that was the wrong KIND of social life. People talked too much. And they had time to think. So they ran off with the porches.”

“Most people talk when they have nothing to say. I’m not talking because I have too much to say. None of which I’d want you to hear.”

“He smiled, which was not at all what she'd expected. It wasn't just a polite smile, either. It was the kind that made her want to sit on the front-porch swing, if she'd had a swing, and hum romantic songs from the thirties, those terrific old songs that talked about red sails in the sunset and the glory of love.”

“I just want to come and sit on your front porch and drink mint juleps.”

“I’ll go talk to them,” Annwyl said. But she cracked her knuckles. “Right now.”Izzy cut in front of Annwyl, forced a smile. “Why don’t I talk to them? Daddy listens to me.”“You want my sword?”Izzy blinked. Hard. “No. I don’t think that’s necessary. To talk to my father and uncles that I adore.”“You want me warhammer then?”

“At night we turned all the lights in every room of our house on. We turned the lights on the front porch on. We turned the lights on the back porch and over the garage on too. We wanted to keep the darkness that surrounded our house and us as far away from us as we could.”