“She wished she could pitch a tent among the stars and wait for God. That way she'd be even closer to hearing the answers when he finally whispered them in her ear.”

“Much of her life had been lived like a balancing act on a spearpoint fence, and on a particularly difficult night when she was twelve, she had decided that instinct was, in fact, the quiet voice of God. Prayers did receive replies, but you had to listen closely and believe in the answer. At twelve, she wrote in her diary: "God doesn't shout; He whispers, and in the whisper is the way.”

“She loves most the wet colours of his neck when he bathes. And his chest with with its sweat which her fingers grip when he is over her, and the dark, tough arms in the darkness of his tent, or one time in her room when light from the valley's city, finally free of curfew, rose among them like twilight and lit the colour of his body.”

“And will you love me for a day? A year? A lifetime?" She knew the answer but wanted to hear him say it in that beautiful, shattered voice."Beyond that," he whispered, eyes shining with the tempest of emotion he'd held in check until now. "Beyond the reign of false gods and meddlesome priests. Beyond al Zafira when her bright stars fade.”

“There were two sides of Julian, she thought, and she remembered a line from something she'd read --Emily Brontë, maybe. Different as a moonbeam and lightning.She wanted to reach the moonbeam part, but she didn't know how.Very softly she said again, "I don't believe you. You're not like the other Shadow Men. You could change --if you wanted to.""No," he said bleakly."Julian..." It was the bleakness that got her. She could see herself reflected in his eyes.Without thinkng, she moved even closer. And closer. Her upper lip touched his lower lip."You can change," she whispered.”

“Ashley tried to speak. Tried again and still could not find the words. Finally she wiped her eyes, pressed her ear to my chest, and whispered. 'Give me all the pieces.”