He was a man who evidently felt very little; she was a woman who felt, perhaps, too much.

This life wasn’t all there was; there was more, much more, and when people spoke of death as “passing” they were exactly right, because the spirit passed on to that other level of existence. Knowing that was the most comforting thing she could imagine.

It takes strength to participate in life.

She’d wanted love, a husband and children, a home filled with laughter and security, the things she’d never had as a child. She’d stopped even dreaming about them, she realized, and that was the saddest thing of all. But then she’d never really had a chance; she’d fallen in love with the one man she couldn’t have, and it appeared that she was one of those women who loved on once in their lifetime.

His face was terrifying in its stillness, with only his eyes alive, glittering with rage. She could feel the force of his anger in the coiled strength of his body, hear it in the almost inaudible softness of his tone. He wasn’t a man who lost control in his anger; he gained it to an even greater degree.

Not so wide that a woman would feel as if she might fall in, and not so small it looked as if he’d just sucked a lemon like Ronald Trump’s, or whatever his name was. All in all, Richard’s lips looked just right.

When we’re married and he looks at me sitting beside him at the table, he should feel as if he’s fought a great battle and accomplished something – namely, winning me. He’ll treasure me more. I like being treasured.

Jason is one of those people who is like a Slinky; you always smile when you think of watching him fall down the stairs.

I personally don’t think a woman should ever live with a man unless they’re married. I guess there are some really great guys out there who wouldn’t take advantage of having a live-in cook and maid, but guess how those arrangements usually turn out?

I don’t argue, waste of time and effort. I listen to opinions, though.