Scars are just another kind of memory.

Nature allowed only the fit and the lucky to share this paradise-in-the-making.

Sometimes life turns out hard, Isabel. Sometimes it just bites right through you. And sometimes, just when you think it's done its worst, it comes back and takes another chunk.

Scars are just another kind of memory.

Right and wrong can be like bloody snakes: so tangled up that you can't tell which is which until you've shot 'em both, and then it's too late.

Years bleach away the sense of things until all that's left is a bone-white past, stripped of feeling and significance.

There are times when the ocean is not the ocean - not blue, not even water, but some violent explosion of energy and danger: fierceness on a scale only gods can summon.