“There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir: We must rise and follow her, When from every hill of flame She calls, and calls each vagabond by name.”

“set me a task in witch i can put something of my very self and it is a task no longer,it is joy;it is art.”

“We've had fifteen years of being grown-ups when we could have got together and we never have. Doesn't that tell you something?''Yeah, that timing is everything. Hit on me again now.”

“Liar,' he said in disgust. 'You're still playing doctors and nurses with the guy you screwed Charlie over with.' Her mouth fell open. 'Don't worry, I won't tell my brother. He's got enough to deal with.''I would never have an affair.''See here's where you and I part ways on our definition of fidelity,' he said. 'I think tonsil hockey with another man is off the agenda for a married woman. Call me old-fashioned.'Her fury was unexpected. 'Who started that rumor...who!''What are you talking about? You admitted it.”

“When I had laid it on the floorI went to blow the fire a-flame,But something rustled on the floor,And someone called me by my name:It had become a glimmering girlWith apple blossoms in her hairWho called me by my name and ranAnd faded through the brightening air. . . .”

“Are you going to kiss me or not?”He released the jacket. “Not,” he rasped.“Then I’ll kiss you.” Cupping his nape, she drew his head down, butNate laid his fingertips over her mouth.“Some things you can’t take back.”Claire lifted his hand. “Some things you don’t want to.”

“These boxes held only ashes of answers, and all their presence meant was more mysteries, and a worry that someday something else might explode.”