“His eyes, I’d long since discovered, could be as eloquent and expressive as his pen. The messages they sent me now hardly seemed decent for a public setting.”

“Harry closed his eyes. He never wanted to open them again. His heart sent this message to his molecules: "For reasons obvious to all of us, this galaxy is dissolved!”

“I concentrated on his eyes and his facial expression. Those said a lot about a person. I’d noticed that his eyes changed color based on his mood. Right now they were a true clear green, which meant he was happy. When his eyes turned cloudy with a mix of gray, he was angry. But my favorite shade was clear dark green, the color of his eyes when he’d just kissed me. Eyes only told part of the story. Drawing a portrait could be like looking at a person’s soul, when done right.”

“When people starts to enjoy a writer's pen, he becomes a legend even if his stories are neither long nor publicly surrounded by expectations.”

“I’d been fighting for this relationship since the day I first saw his water eyes.”

“Ask me again, Tristan read on his cell phone. Ask what? he sent back. Why I call you Sparky. Michael fumbled with the keys, not looking up. Well, sure, why? Tristan sent back. You light me up, came the answer, and Tristan's nimble fingers stopped on the keys. He stared hard at the small screen on his phone, the text message right there, waiting to see if he would send a reply. He just sat and stared till his phone turned off, unable to look up into the oh-so-blue eyes of the man who had sent it.”