One of my greatest pleasures is falling into a story someone else has written.

But Roarke doesn't feel weird about it. He's full of it, the love, I mean. And when he loves me, things that never worked in me did - do. It was easier when they didn't work, but it's better when they do. You know?

I think she was the love of his life. When you've got one of those, it does stuff to you. It makes you think about them even when you're doing routine things. It makes you want to protect them, to make them happy and safe.

I don't kick a man when he's down, unless I'm the one who put him down in the first place. I don't put him down unless he deserves it. And I don't break my word if I give it. So I'll give you my word.

Eve: "She had big plans for me. Kind of a pet, I imagine. Like William. Her little trained dog. And with you dead, she figured I'd inherit all your goodies. You're not going to do that to me are you?" Roarke: "What, die?" Eve: "Leave me all this stuff." Roarke: "Only you would be annoyed by that.

Holding onto something that's gone only makes a sickness inside.

You can fix anything but a blank page.