He used to believe good things happened in this kind of weather.

Sometimes you weren't supposed to share pain. Sometimes it was best just to deal with it alone.

Snow flurries began to fall and they swirled around people's legs like house cats. It was magical, this snow globe world.

Everything had felt so precarious since her mother's death, like she was walking on a bridge made of paper.

There was a mood of magic and frenzy to the room. Crystalline swirls of sugar and flour still lingered in the air like kite tails. And then there was the smell-the smell of hope, the kind of smell that brought people home.

Men. You can't live with them, you can't shoot them.

I think Heaven will be like a first kiss.