You can't imagine how much it hurts to be ignored by people… you respect. You don't know how loud the silence is or how deeply it cuts. It's bad enough watching the hatred touch my brothers. I'd rather die than see it touch you.

He picked up his knife and started carving again. He concentrated on the lines and planes of the wood to keep his mind from wandering too far into the past.He had his own wounds that refused to heal.

Honeysuckle. She smelled of honeysuckle. He thought about her pert little nose. He'd wanted to smile every time she tilted it to demonstrate her disdain toward him. If her obvious hatred for him hadn't been so great, hadn't hurt so badly, he might have smiled.

Dreams were the stepping stones to glory.By pursuing them, he had attained a level of success that exceeded most men’s reach and acquired all that he had set out to gain: Land, cattle, and wealth beyond his highest expectations. Yet, desperation gnawed at him like a starving dog that had just discovered a buried bone, and as he gazed at the stars that blanketed the velvety sky, he felt as though he had achieved nothing.

Her delicate brows drew together. “As a rancher, surely he knows how to ride a horse.” “He can ride just fine. He took it into his head that he could break this rangy mustang, and it broke him instead.”-Houston and Amelia

Maybe in time, once your feelings for Dee deepen—" "That's my problem, Houston. I think I've fallen in love with her and I've got no earthly idea how to make her love me."-Dallas and Houston

He wrapped his hand around hers, pressed a kiss to the heart of her palm, and held her gaze. “I’ve got a one-room cabin, a few horses, and a dream that’s so small it won’t even cover your palm. But it sure seems a lot bigger when you’re beside me.”The moonlight streaming through the window shimmered off the tears trailing along her cheeks. “I’ve always wanted a dream that I could hold in the palm of my hand,” she said quietly.-Houston and Amelia

He stirred the fire, and when he spoke, his voice blended in with the roar of the fire's blaze. "I want tonight, Maddie." He twisted his body away from the fire until his attention was focused entirely on her. "Tell me you don't love me, and I'll sleep on the other side of the fire. Otherwise, I intend to take tonight.

It hurts to cry," she said, her voice raspy."It hurts worse not to.""Did you cry?""For four days straight.""Is that how long it took you to bury them?""Yes, ma'am," he said in a voice that sounded like stone grating against stone.

You think the only battles fought are done so with rifles, and the only wounds that kill draw blood. You think courage is loud, boisterous, and proud. Mrs. Warner, I don't think you have a clue as to what this memorial truly represents."-Clay to Meg