"It doesn't matter how long it takes." She thought of him, of them, the lifetime already shared. "It's how long it lasts."

We're not blank slates. What we've done, what we've survived all go into us.

For over a year I continued to submit mss, and have them rejected - the last few with rejection letters indicated the story was pretty good, but I was American.

Lots of people think things would be better some other way. That's why the world's lousy with theme parks.

You're the love of my life. I don't care how corny that sounds. You're the start of it, and the end of it. And you're the best of it.

Summerset, don't you ever sleep?" "It's Lieutenant Dallas. She's--" Roarke dropped his briefcase, grabbed Summerset by the lapels. "Has she been hurt? Where is she?" "A nightmare. She was screaming." Summerset lost his usual composure and dragged a hand over his hair. "She won't cooperate. I was about to call your doctor. I left her in her private suite." As Roarke pushed him aside, Summerset grabbed his arm. "Roarke, you should have told me what had been done to her." Roarke merely shook his head and kept going. "I'll take care of her.

Today should always be outlawed in favor of tomorrow