“He drank in her misery like fine wine, savoring every drop, letting it soothe his mind, his tension flowing out the fingertips that held the paddle.”

“As he drank, little brown drops of coffee clung to his mustache like dew. Men will live like billy goats if they are let alone.”

“Half naked, he drank her in with his eyes, imprinting this moment into his mind. This, he would take to his death – the woman that stirred him to life.”

“All that he had of her was his memory, where he held every moment, every single moment that she had been his. That was all he had, to keep out the loneliness.”

“I can’t have it either. It affects the babies in utero.”“Nonsense,” he said, tossing his long auburn hair over one shoulder. Life would be easier if he wasn’t so damned good-looking. “Why, my mother drank wine every day, and I turned out just fine.”“I think you’re proving my point for me,” I said dryly”

“Too much coffee has been spilled in the name of war. Let us love and savor every drop.”