They grew fat and happy--the horses, not the children, or Marlena for that matter.

I scan the room. Catherine is writing quickly, her light brown hair falling over her face. She is left-handed, and because she writes in pencil her left arm is silver from wrist to elbow.

I stare at her for a long moment. I want to kiss her. I want to kiss her more than I've ever wanted anything in my life.

With a secret like that, at some point the secret itself becomes irrelevant. The fact that you kept it does not.

Life is the most spectacular show on earth.

At this moment, the story in his head was perfect. He also knew from experience that it would degenerate the second he started typing, because such was the nature of writing.

Jacob: I've never seen so much manure. Wade: Baggage stock horses. They pack'em in 27 a car. Jacob: how do you stand the smell? Wade: what smell?