You know what it is you smell on him, Haven? Testosterone. It's leaking out of his pores.

One can't help but marvel at the variety of ways that women had devised to make us look like flaming idiots.

...one can't avoid the storms and calamities of life, but one can at least find the right partner to face them with.

Hardy's either done the wrong thing for the wrong reason . . . " Another big swallow. "Or the wrong thing for the right reason.

You can never be truly happy in a life unless you have known a sorrow. All terrible things we have gone through in life have created spaces inside us where happiness can live Not to mention love.

And you're not the kind of girl I want." Surely he couldn't mean the fact that I was Mexican. From what I knew of Hardy, there wasn't a bit of prejudice in him. He never used racist words, never looked down on someone for things they couldn't help. "What kind do you want?" I asked with difficulty. "Someone I can leave without looking back.

Sometimes I'm not nice for a reason. It's a way to find out what someone's made of.