Those who live in memories are never really dead." The House At Riverton

Oh, Grey, no one really likes keeping secrets. The only thing that makes a secret fun is knowing that you weren't supposed to tell it.

His words had tossed the book that was her life into the air and the pages had been blown into disarray, could never be put back together to tell the same story.

Thinking of nothing. Trying to think of nothing. Thinking of everything.

Percy climbed the first step, then the next, remembering the thousands of times she'd run through the door, in a hurry to get to the future, to whatever was coming next, to this moment.

In each man's heart there lies a hole. A dark abyss of need, the filling of which takes precedence over all else.

But everyone's an expert with the virtue of hindsight . . . .