“Perfection in anything is unbearably dull. Myself, I prefer a touch of imperfection.”

“The lovely thing about being forty is that you can appreciate twenty-five-year-old men more.”

“The lovely thing about being forty is that you can appreciate twenty-five-year-old men more.”

“Rain, rain, rain. Like a benediction from some vast inscrutable hand, long withheld, finally given. The blessed, wonderful rain. For rain meant grass, and grass was life.”

“The best thing about being 40 is that you can appreciate 25-year-old men more.”

“Until you can leave the matter of forgiveness to God, you will not have acquired true humility.”

“He was, he admitted, a man who liked to have his cake and eat it too.”

“He hadn't wooed her, but had simply claimed her. A gold mine ready to dig. There should have been a period of quiet dinners together, of flowers rather than diamonds, of kisses given after permission to kiss, of a slow awakening that predisposed her to greater intimacies. But no, not the great Alexander Kinross! He had met her, he had married her the next day, and climbed into her bed after one kiss in the church. There to prove himself an animal in her eyes. One mistake after another, that was the story of his relationship with Elizabeth. And Ruby had always meant more.”

“He owe his wife a debt he couldn't hope to pay with any coin save one: open the cage and let the bird fly.”

“Meggie dropped to her knees, scrambling frantically to collect the miniature clothes before more damage was done them, then she began picking among the grass blades where she thought the pearls might have fallen. Her tears were blinding her, the grief in her heart new, for until now she had never owned anything worth grieving for.”

“Perfection in anything is unbearably dull. Myself, I prefer a touch of imperfection.”