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.

Nobody ever sees this part,” I said. “It doesn’t matter if it’s pretty.” “So it’s like track six on an album,” Cole said.

Watch for the devil. When there’s a god, there’s always a legion of devils.

Happiness isn't something this island yields easily; the ground is too rocky and the sun too sparse for it to flourish.

To Grace, these were the things that mattered: my hands on her cheeks, my lips on her mouth. The fleeting touches that meant I loved her.

...sensation of rightness, of saying the right thing atthe right time to the right person, that too-raresensation of having the right thing to say and believing it.

The one reality was this: He was home. How badly he wanted to stay.