It had been so long since she had seen him and she had lived on memories until they were worn thin.

You're like the thief who isn't the least bit sorry he stole, but is terribly, terribly sorry he's going to jail. - Rhett Butler

It is axiomatic among writers that no one ever sues the writer of an unsuccessful book. Just let a book go over twenty-five thousand copies and it is surprising how many people's feelings are hurt, how many screwballs think their brain children have been stolen, and how many people feel that they have been portrayed in a manner calculated to bring infamy upon them.

The green eyes in the carefully sweet face were turbulent, willful, lusty with life, distinctly at variance with her decorous demeanor. Her manners had been imposed upon her ... her eyes were her own.

I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow.

You should be kissed and by someone who knows how.

They knew that love snatched in the face of danger and death was doubly sweet for the strange excitement that went with it.