“Ta-ta?” she asked Jack, once Jessica was out of earshot. “I can't believe you went out with a woman who uses that interjection.”
“I can't believe I'm ‘going out’ with a woman who uses the word ‘interjection.”
“You snore.”
She stopped in the middle of the hallway and gaped. “I do not.”
“Oh yeah, you do.” He nodded, beaming from ear to ear. “Cute, kind of baby snores, but still snores by standard definition. Maybe that was the problem that broke up you and David. Doctors need their sleep, you know.”
“Careful,” he chided with a grin. “First you talk marriage and now you're telling me what to eat. You're sounding more and more like a real girlfriend every day. Just remember, this is still our first date, so keep your hands to yourself tonight. I'm not one of those guys.”
“You are still the creator of your own destiny. Don't overlook the journey.”
“Jack had a way of sneaking up on her, like a cold or...a chin hair.”
“She repeated the thought again for good measure—and because she liked to hear herself think.”
“watching Madame Butterfly was a little like watching a slug race.”
“hear that same thing from the psychic, it’d make her feel much better. “I see a man in your future…” the psychic began in a raspy voice. His—her—Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as she closed her eyes and laid her palms on the cards. Sabrina blinked and tried hard to focus on what she was saying and not on the hair of Madame’s knuckles.”
“But it wasn't their separation that was consuming my mind just then; it was Evelyn's garden. Bee had taken us there when we were children, and it was all rushing back: a magical world of hydrangeas, roses, and dahlias, and lemon shortbread cookies on Evelyn's patio. It seemed like only yesterday that my sister and I sat on the little bench under the trellis while Bee hovered over her easel, capturing on her canvas whatever flower was in bloom in the lush beds. "Your garden," I said, "I remember your garden."
"Yes," Evelyn said, smiling.
I nodded, a little astonished that this memory, buried so deep in my mind, had risen to the surface just then like a lost file from my subconscious. It was as if the island had unlocked it somehow.”
“She opened her heart and her home to her Purpose, and waited for it to come in.”
“Why did it take the threat of dying to truly notice how exquisite a sunrise or sunset could be?”
“The opposite of love isn't hate; it's indifference”
“There's the story, then there's the real story, then there's the story of how the story came to be told. Then there's what you leave out of the story. Which is part of the story too.”
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