Honey, can you tell me how we got from making babies on the dining table to the German economy? Because...I'm confused.

He thought about it; reprieve in a paradise far removed from the cold and the wind and the unbroken horizon. A world so warm and turquoise-resplendent that it wouldn't matter, really, that he'd spent all this time loving a woman [...] who hated him.

I'd marry you tonight, baby, if I didn't want to see you in a wedding dress so bad.

She felt neither the shimmering, aching thrill of kissing Cole nor the reckless confusion of being with Mr. Schubert. But rather grounded herself on the promise of a warm, humming tedium as simple, as predictable as Bill himself.

Something unnamable fit between them and for now it was too delicate to put words to. Even if Lars spoke better English.