“I've wanted to be with you when I didn't have the right to.”
“So, you’re hitting on Clare the Fair.”
“I’m not hitting on her. I’m exploring the possibility of seeing her on social terms.”
“He’s hitting on her,” Owen said around a mouthful of chips. “You’ve still got that thing you had for her back in high school. Are you still writing bad song lyrics about heartbreak?”
“Suck me. And they weren’t that bad.”
“Yeah, they were,” Ryder disagreed. “But at least now we don’t have to listen to you playing your keyboard and howling them down the hall.”
“I'm messing this up. I love you. I should've started with that. I swear I trip up more with you than anybody. I love you, Clare. I always did, but it's different loving who you are now. It's so damn solid. You're so solid, so steady, strong, smart. I love who you are, how you are. I love those boys, you have to know.”
“Couples take care of each other, Clare, that's what makes them a couple. And couples tell each other when something happens that scares them.”
“It's about us. It's about trust.”
“You got used to running things on your own."
"What could he do about it when he's in Iraq and the car breaks down in Kansas?"
Beckett gave her a long, quiet look. "I'm not in Iraq."
"No, and it has to be said, I'm not in Kansas anymore." She lifted her hands, then let them fall. "It's not that I've forgotten how to be a couple, but that my experience in being part of one is different from yours. Maybe from most people's. And I've been on my own a long time."
"Now you're not. I'm not fighting a war, and I'm right here." Needed to be here, he realized, with her.”
“Men are boys in bigger packages.”
“Told you not to tell her.”
“That's not how I work things. That's not how you build a relationship.”
“Build a relationship.” Ryder snorted as he sent the drill whirling again. “You've been reading again.”
“Blow me.”
“You're the woman in my life,” he said. “Another thing about me and my brothers? We look after the women in our lives. We don't know any other way.”
“That's possible to likely. We're involved, you and me. I'm telling you what I'm going to do because I figure when people are involved, when they matter, they tell each other.”
“I hope that's true, because I figured out why I'd never finished it, what I was waiting for. I was waiting for you, Clare. For them. For us. I want to finish it up for you, for them, for us.”
“It's only thunder."
"It just startled me," she said, her eyes on his. "I'm not afraid of storms.'
"Let's see."
Still, he moved slowly, taking his time as much to prolong this new moment as to gauge her reaction. He laid his hands on her hips as the rain beat and splashed, sliding them up her body, smooth and easy as he lowered his head, paused-one long breath-then fit his mouth to hers.”
“You didn’t hurt me, the situation did. And now that I know why I felt that way, it won’t hurt.”
“Harry, I promised you something. I said I'd clear it with you before I asked your mom to marry me. I need you to tell me it's okay if I do.”
“You're seriously talking about a ghost. This building - or parts of it - has been here for two and a half centuries. It would strike me odder if there wasn't a ghost. Not everything, everyone, leaves.”
“He can't face you on an adult level, so he comes along and fucks up your truck. Classic payback method for the tiny-dick type.”
“Ryder - the oldest, Avery continued. He's standing as job boss on this project. Owen's the detail guy, runs the numbers, makes the calls, takes the meetings. Or most of them. Beckett's an architect.”
“He stayed nearly an hour. Clare would have kissed him again just for the fact he'd given her kids such a great time. He'd never seemed bored or annoyed with a conversation dominated by superheroes, their powers, their partners, their foes.”
“Still, he moved slowly, taking his time as much to prolong this moment as to gauge her reaction. He laid his hands on her hips as the rain beat and splashed, sliding them up her body, smooth and sexy as he lowered his head, paused - one long breath - then fit his mouth to hers. This, he thought as the took her face in his hands. Just this, so worth the wait. Soft, sweet, a yielding tremor, and her arms came up to wrap around his waist, to draw him into her.”
“Beckett, don't make me ask you to come upstairs and check in the closets. She laid her hands on his cheeks. Just come upstairs.”
“Romantic couples. Each room has its own flavor, its own feel.”
“When you know the answer, it's not being hardheaded. It's just being right.”
“He found his mother and Carolee on two in the Eve and Roarke room.”
“All three are terrific carpenters and cabinetmakers.”
“maybe waiting. No matter how both of them had changed, evolved, restructured their lives, at the base they remained who they were.”
“In his experience you got more results with flat reason than angry confrontation. He just had to keep reminding himself he wanted results and not the satisfaction of a fight.”
“Avery pushed to her feet. “I’ll”
“across the street, a few doors down, Sam watched the house, noting”
“we may face numerous problems seeming to contradict God’s plan, these shouldn’t be barriers but opportunities to turn a negative into a positive. It’s”
“Romero ran back to the Apple II department to tell Lane and Jay the good news: “Dudes, we’re fucking making games!” Lane would now be editor of Gamer’s Edge, Softdisk’s new bimonthly games disk for the PC. All that remained was to get another programmer, someone who knew the PC and, just as important, could fit in with Lane and Romero. Jay said there was someone he knew who was definitely hard-core. This kid was turning in great games. And he even knew how to port from the Apple II to the PC. Romero was impressed by the apparent similarities to himself. But there was a problem, Jay said. The Whiz Kid had already turned down a job offer three times because he liked working freelance. Romero pleaded with Jay to try him again. Jay wasn’t optimistic but said okay. He picked up the phone and gave John Carmack one last pitch. When Carmack pulled up to Softdisk in his brown MGB, he had no intention of taking the job. But, then again, times were getting rough. Though he enjoyed the idea of the freelance lifestyle, he was having trouble making rent and would frequently find himself pestering editors like Jay to express him his checks so he could buy groceries. A little stability wouldn’t be bad, but he wasn’t eager to compromise his hard work and ideals to get there. It would take something significant to sway him.”
“But at home, that same day he'd jumped into the fountain, he'd gotten so anxious, pacing around the living room listening to his parents try to calm him, that he suddenly just lost it completely and slapped his face. He immediately started crying, confused and guilty, looking up at his parents like he had no idea how it happened. And, really, that's the way it always was with the hitting. It would happen so fast, his body shaking to release the tension that built up from all the thoughts swirling through his mind and all the air he was having trouble breathing and all the loud beating of his own heart ringing in his ears. It had to get out and that was the path it chose. Slap. Instant relief.”
“Disappointment in others is tough. But disappointment in yourself is far worse.”
“I learned early on that war forms its own culture. The rush of battle is a potent and often lethal addiction, for war is a drug, one I ingested for many years. It is peddled by mythmakers- historians, war correspondents, filmmakers, novelists, and the state- all of whom endow it with qualities it often does possess: excitement, exoticism, power, chances to rise above our small stations in life, and a bizarre and fantastic universe that has a grotesque and dark beauty.”
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