And then, because she was Tatiana and because she couldn’t help herself, and because he wouldn’t have it any other way, she ran to him and was in his arms.

This is days and days and months and years and all the minutes in between, just you me.

I love you breathlessly, my amazing man.

Oh Alexander," she said, "what do you want from me..." "Everything!" he whispered fiercely.

I know that sometimes the things we carry become too much for us. We are burned down, but somehow we have to pick ourselves up and keep going

I have a certain sensibility that I bring to my writing that comes from knowing two things: what I as a reader like to read, and what as a writer I am capable of. I know my own limits. I know there are things I cannot do.

"Alexander, were you looking for me?" "All my life."