My grandfather was a Texas Ranger. He used to tell me that courage was a lie. It was just fear that you ignored.

Think about the women who fought for the vote. They had to be scared, too, but they marched for change, even if it meant going to jail. And now we can vote. Sometimes the end is worth any sacrifice.

My childhood, I thought naively, was mine alone, those memories painted in vibrant oil strokes on the canvas of my years.

In love we see who we want to be; in war we see who we are.

All her life she had waited – longed for – people to love her, but now she saw what really mattered. She had known love, been blessed by it.

I close my eyes and in the darkness that smells of mildew and bygone lives, my mind casts back, a line thrown across years and continents.

That was the thing about her dad: he might be moody and sharp-tempered, even a little scary sometimes, but that was just because he felt things like love and loss and disappointment so keenly.

Nightingales mean loss, don’t they? Love that leaves or doesn’t last or never existed in the first place.

Meg is planning your wedding? Honey, that’s like asking the pope to plan a bar mitzvah.

What will we be without him?” Meredith whispered, clinging to her. “Less,” was all Nina could think of to say.