It was only a sunny smile, and little it cost in the giving, but like morning light it scattered the night and made the day worth living.

I wasn't actually in love, but I felt a sort of tender curiosity.

He felt married to her, that was all.

The Montana sunset lay between the mountains like a giant bruise from which darkened arteries spread across a poisoned sky.

Beauty is only to be admired, only to be loved - to be harvested carefully and then flung at a chosen lover like a gift of roses. It seems to me, so far as I can judge clearly at all, that my beauty would be used like that.

I couldn't forgive him or like him, but I saw that what he had done was, to him, entirely justified.

What people are ashamed of usually makes a good story.