Once I thought that Lake Forest was the most glamorous place in the world. Maybe it was.
Great books write themselves, only bad books have to be written.
She wanted to crawl into his pocket and be safe forever.
She saw something awful in the very simplicity she failed to understand.
They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.
Stahr's eyes and Kathleen's met and tangled. For an instant they made love as no one ever dares to do after. Their glance was slower than an embrace, more urgent than a call.