Then kiss me, Claire," he whispered, "And know that you are more to me than life, and I have no regret.

An Englishman thinks a hundred miles is a long way; and American thinks a hundred years is a long time

If I find I need guidance, I’ll ask.

People assume that science is a very cold sort of profession, whereas writing novels is a warm and fuzzy intuitive thing. But in fact, they are not at all different.

It was in a way a comforting idea; if there was all the time in the world, then the happenings of a given moment became less important.

She sounded as though love were an unfortunate but unavoidable condition.

I had one last try. "Does it bother you that I'm not a virgin?" He hesitated a moment before answering. "Well, no," he said slowly, "so long as it doesna bother you that I am." He grinned at my drop-jawed expression, and backed toward the door. "Reckon one of us should know what they're doing," he said. The door closed softly behind him; clearly the courtship was over.