White For Light. White For Love. White

When Their Lips Met, And Their Tongues Touched, It Was Like They Were Kissing In A Hundred Different Places, And Her Senses Were Flooded With New Sensations And Old Memoires. He Kissed Her, And Their Souls Melted Into Each Other In A Melody Older Than Time.

You Made A Sacrifice. And Heaven Rewarded You.

Not That They Were There To Have Fun—although With Kingsley Martin Around, Fun Was Never Far From The Agenda.

Memories Were Moving Pictures In Which Meaning Was Constantly In Flux. They Were Stories People Told Themselves.

Jack Force Was More Than She Had Ever Dared Wish For, And He Was Better Than A Dream Or A Fantasy Because He Was Real. He Was Far From Perfect, Moody And Distant At Times, And Burdened With Sharp Temper And An Impulsiveness That Was Part Of His Dark Nature. But She Felt More Love For Him Than She Thought Possible. He Wasn't Perfect, But He Was Perfect For Her. (schuyler Van Alen)