I got you a present." "Did you?" "It's a book of poetry--romancy stuff. I thought, 'How schmaltzy is that,' so it seemed like the thing. Then I screwed up and left it in my desk at work

Nothing ever seems too bad, too hard or too sad when you've got a Christmas tree in the living room. All those presents under it, all that anticipation. Just a way of saying there's always light and hope in the world.

I write every day. Even if I'm not writing well, I write through it. I can fix a bad page. I can't fix a blank one.

She wants to learn how to handle a gun. Well, I want George Clooney naked in my bed, but I haven't attempted kidnapping. Yet.

What did she say?" Eve asked when they got into the car. "Here's love, she said, to hold until next we meet and I give you more.

A woman with romance in her life lived as grandly as a queen, because her heart was treasured.

Why?” He tilted his head. “That’s a tricky one. Could it be your serenity, your quiet manner, your flawless fashion sense?” It did his heart good to see her quick, amused grin. “No, I must be thinking of someone else. It must be your courage, your absolute dedication to balancing scales, that restless mind, and that sweet corner of your heart that pushes you to care so much about so many.” “That’s not me.” “Oh, but it is you, darling Eve.