“It's more like I was daydreaming when the Supreme Being told me what I should do with my life, and it's too late to ask what it was.”

“I'm stuck struggling in the cold water, and all I can do is grieve, grieve, in the hoar necessitous horror of the morning, bitterly I hate myself, bitterly it's too late yet while I feel better I still feel ephemeral and unreal and unable to straighten my thoughts or even really grieve, in fact I feel too stupid to be really bitter, in short I don't know what I'm doing and I'm being told what to do...”

“Being brave...is not always being unafraid. Maybe it's more like doing what you know is right even when you're too tired. Or scared. It's going on and doing it anyway...even when you think you can't take one more step.”

“The two girls disappeared into the stern cabin once more. Will watched them go, then asked Halt, 'Anything you'd like me to do? Grow a beard? Learn to walk like a rooster?''If you could stop asking facetious questions, that'd be a start,' Halt told him. 'But it's probably a little late in life for you to do that.”

“Is it too late?" I asked Margot Cherry that afternoon. It's been more than thirty years and still I can remember how my voice shook. "How do we know when we've loved someone all that we can?”

“Was there any fate more bitter than to get what you long for most, when it's too late?”