Aren't most romance heros, or heros in fiction of any kind, generally superior to real men? Same goes for heroines and real women.

And yet, anything real, anything strong, was never easy. She'd been taught from an early age that the things that mattered most were the hardest to obtain.

Shannon: Only the living suffered. Only they were riddled with guilt and regret and unanswered questions.

A ghra. A amhain. My love. My only.

I know you love me, but I don't know why. I look at you and I just can't get why it's me. Every time I get my balance, I lose it again. Because it shouldn't be me, and I think it'd kill me if you ever figured that out.

I saw you standing on a veranda you'd built with your own hands. And I loved you.

What's your status?" she asked him. "Healthy, wealthy, and wise. What's yours?" "Ha. Mean, crafty, and rude.