She was also incredibly confident, with a way of moving and talking that communicated that she didn't need anyone to tell her she was beautiful or worthwhile.

I preferred to look at the sea, which said nothing and never made you feel alone.

The way I see it, how can you really say you'll love a person longer than love lasts?

How unbelievably naive we both were that night. We clung hard to each other, making vows we couldn't keep and should never have spoken aloud. That's how love is sometimes. I already loved him more than I'd ever loved anything or anyone. I knew he needed me absolutely, and I wanted him to go on needing me forever.

... and yet he could also be very charming, in a bookish, infinitely apologetic way.

To marry was to say you believed in the future and in the past, too-that history and tradition and hope could stay knit together to hold you up.

And that's when he finally tells me his name is Ernest. I'm thinking of giving it away, though. Ernest is so dull, and Hemingway? Who wants a Hemingway?