And, like a fool, she kissed him back. Kissed him a way that would leave no doubt about the way she felt about him. Kissed him because she knew the chances were slim she'd have very many kisses like that in her lifetime. Which is a sad thing when you're only seventeen.

He expects nothing, she thought, because he's never had anything. And nothing was expected of him. He was free in a way she never would be.

You couldn’t keep your mouth shut? I’m calling you Glitterhair from now on. Or Talksalot.

Commander! Sir! Wake up!" Jack surfaced from sleep, wondering who the commander was and wishing he'd respond so he could go back to sleep - until he remembered that he was the commander.

Sometimes you have to go somewhere else to appreciate what we have here.

She had never felt more alive than when she lay dying in Han Alister's arms.

One more thing: Linda, can you get to Canterbury and take over my Chaucerian Society? They're at Dovecote Hostelry in the old city. We're visiting all the scenes of the great murders. Tomorrow they want to see where Becket was killed. They're a bloodthirsty lot, it seems.