happy women get softer and rounder.

We’re born alone and we die alone, I accept that. But why, God, do we have to be alone in the middle?

There was a rhythm to the canter. Up, forward, down; up, forward, down. It soon became pleasant. The broad warm rump felt good beneath her. The pounding was diminished, cushioned by the horse's muscles and the springiness of his hindquarter joints . . . The ridden horse was a marvel, diminishing space.

If you would have peace, genuine peace, you must accept all the aspects of your personality and learn to be comfortable with them.

There is no disgrace in peace. There can never be dishonor in peace.

He took her into his arms again, using all his strength to be gentle, and let his lips touch hers so lightly he could hardly feel it.

You have no enemy until you make one.