I ought to break your neck!" Clayton interrupted. Too late, Whitney realized that she shouldn't have been standing all this time on her "injured" knee. "Allow me to congratulate you on a fine day's work, Madam," he said sternly. "In less than twelve hours, you've brought Whitticomb to your side and Cuthbert to your feet.

Success without someone to share it with is hollow indeed. On the other hand, it beats the heck out of failure.

Whitney: Where is your home? Clayton: Wherever you are.

Life was wonderful, so filled with people and activities, with love and laughter.

Missing you?" she giggled incredulously. "I could cheerfully murder you." "I'd come back to haunt you," he threatened with a grin. "And that," she said, "is the only reason why I haven't tried.

I love life, even when bad things happen to me. I can't stop loving it. Every season of the year comes with a promise that something wonderful is going to happen to me someday.

You can't stand clutter, and you have an obsession with orderliness. The furniture in here is centered exactly on the walls; the files on your desk are arranged in precise corners. If I had to guess, I would say you are probably a control freak, and that is usually symptomatic of a man who feels powerless to control his own life, so he tries to control every facet of his surroundings.