But A Man Is Not Forgotten, As

There Aren't Any Answers, Only Choices

Do You Really Think We'll Ever--" "i Do," He Said With Certainty, Not Letting Me Finish. He Leaned Over And Kissed My Forehead. "i Know It, Sassenach, And So Do You. You Were Meant To Be A Mother, And I Surely Dinna Intend To Let Anyone Else Father Your Children.

And If Time Is Anything Akin To God, I Suppose That Memory Must Be The Devil.

Any Piece Of Good Music Is In Essence A Love Song.

This Was Nonsense, He Thought. The Need Of Her Was A Physical Thing, Like The Thirsty Of A Sailor Becalmed For Weeks On The Sea. He'd Felt The Need Before, Often, Often, In Their Years Apart. But Why Now? She Was Safe; He Knew Where She Was - Was It Only The Exhaustion Of The Past Weeks And Days, Or Perhaps The Weakness Of Creeping Age That Made His Bones Ache, As Though She Had In Fact Been Torn From His Body, As God Had Made Eve From Adam's Rib?