I Don't Think You Can Write -

He Shook His Head And Eyed Roarke. "you Don't Look Like A Cop." "i'm Not And Thank You For Noticing.

My Apartment's Only About A Block Away." "isn't That Handy." "fate," He Countered As He Took A Seat On The Sofa And Made Himself At Home. "fantasic, Isn't It?" "one Day Very Soon, I'm Going To Tell You What You Can Do With That Fate Of Yours.

I’ve Never Been The One. Not For Anybody.” He Closed The Distance Between Them. “you’ll Get Used To It.” He Tipped Her Face Up To His, Kissed Her. “why? Why Am I The One?” “because My Life Opened Up, And It Flooded With Color When You Walked Back Into It.

Life Is Like A Moustache. It Can Be Wonderful Or Terrible. But It Always Tickles.

She Was Tough In The Best Sense Of The Word. She'd Taken Blows, The Disappointments, And Had Worked Her Way Through Them. Some People, He Knew, Would Have Buckled Under, Found A Clutch, Or Given Up. But She Had Carved A Place For Herself And Made It Work.