“What do you want? What are you willing to give up to get it? Writing requires you make sacrifices. Be prepared to work hard to be a writer.”

“Be prepared to work hard to be a writer.”

“The intensity of his expression caused her to tentatively ask, “What?”“I’ve never been a big fan of the missionary position.”Not quite sure how to respond to that, she said simply, “Oh.”“I preferred making it any other way.”“Why?”“Because it didn’t have anything to do with getting off.”“What didn’t?”“Looking into the woman’s face.” He murmured the statement as though puzzled by it.Her throat grew tight. She reached up and stroked his cheek. “You wanted to look into mine?”

“And the longer she holds out, the more you want it, and the more you want it, the blinder you get. There is a direct correlation, you know, between a stiff dick and blind stupidity.”

“Doesn't it bother your conscience to know that thousands of trees give up their lives just to keep you in reading matter that you dont read?”

“That all any of us has to give is our best. if we do that. we succeed, no matter what the outcome.”

“(Honor)“You had told me that if you didn’t return within a few minutes of ten o’clock, I was to drive away and get as far from Tambour as possible. So, for all you knew, that’s what I had done. After nearly dying in that explosion, with a burn on your shoulder, and your hair singed, you could have run in any given direction in order to get away, but you didn’t. When you found me on the railroad tracks, you were racing back to the garage. To me.”He didn’t say anything, but his jaw tensed.She smiled and moved closer to him, aligning her body along his. “You don’t have to give me flowers, Coburn. You don’t even have to hold me.” She laid her head on his chest just below his chin. Her hand curved around his neck. “Let me hold you.”