Jewels of the Sun

Magic is. But its power is nothing beside love. --Prince Carrick

Aidan to Jude: What's wrong with running away if where you were didn't suit you? Doesn't it follow you're funning to something else? Something that does suit you?

He was a wild one as a lad, and there's a look about him that says he could be again." Kathy sighed. "I've always had a soft spot for a wild heart in a man. Have you no sweetheart in the States then, Jude?" "No." She thought briefly of William. Had she ever considered her husband her sweetheart? "No one special." "If they're not special, what would the point be?

Words have magic. Spells and curses. Some of them, the best of them, once said change everything.

Why is it you think you'll live forever and why do you want to, I'd like to know, when you deny yourselves so many of the basic pleasures in life?

They never see what you are." Shocked, Jude glanced around to see who'd spoken, then realized she had. "Don't they?" Brenna wanted to know, lifting her brow as she topped off Jude's glass yet again. "They see a reflection of their own perception. Whore or angel, mother or child. Depending on their view, they're compelled to protect or conquer or exploit. Or you're a convenience," she murmured. "Easily discarded.

If you don't tell her just that, if you don't give her your heart, Aidan, if you don't bare it for her and give her the time to trust what she sees there, you'll never have her.

...she lost twenty minutes sitting on the floor with her arms wrapped around her knees, smiling into the pretty glow and imagining herself a contented farmer's wife waiting for her man to come in from the fields.

Because if you had confidence enough to try something, you had to have courage enough to fail.

I can't believe what a state I got myself into over this. Everyone was right. They said it would just happen, and it did. I guess the best things do.

The woman’s managed what hasn’t been done in thirty-one years. She’s broke my god dawn nose

She started to speak, to ask politely for a glass of white wine. Then he smiled, a slow, lazy curving of lips that inexplicably set her insides a fluttering and turned her mind into a buzzing mess of static.

Come away! O, human child! To the woods and waters wild, With a fairy hand in hand, For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand. —W. B. YEATS