A way of looking at you that told you she was listening, that she understood all you were saying, and all you weren't.

It's a funny thing, character, the way it brands people as they age, rising from within to leave its scar.

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

It didn't occur to him that she might have chosen to remain this way. That where he saw reserve and loneliness, Cassandra saw self-preservation and the knowledge that it was safer when one had less to lose.

But history is a faithless teller whose cruel recourse to hindsight makes fools of its actors.

Curiosity might have killed the cat, but little girls usually fared much better.

I simply love writing good stories, that's my passion.