I think that’s a mercy of this island, actually, that it won’t give us our terrible memories for long, but let us keep the good ones for as long as we want them.

I hated this. I hated knowing what I wanted and knowing what was right and knowing they weren't the same thing.

As always, there was an all-American war hero look to him, coded in his tousled brown hair, his summer-narrowed hazel eyes, the straight nose that ancient Anglo-Saxons had graciously passed on to him. Everything about him suggested valor and power and a firm handshake.

As I handed her the bag, the old scars on my wrist throbbed with buried memories.

In the night, I've shrunk and everyone else on the island has grown. They're all nine feet tall and men and I'm four feet and a child. Dove, too, is a toy or possibly a dog as I lead her through the throngs of people.

And Ronan was everything that was left: molten eyes and a smile made for war.

Where do you live?" Adam's mouth was very set. "A place made for leaving" "That's not really an answer." "It's not really a place.