She raised her eyes to his. They had both come from misery, she thought, and survived it. They had been drawn together through violence and tragedy, and had overcome it. They walked different paths and had found a mutual route. Some things last, she thought. Some ordinary things. Like love.
Interpretation
The quote reflects on the resilience of love that emerges from shared struggles.
In this quote, Nora Roberts articulates the profound connection that can form between individuals who have experienced shared hardships. The characters recognize that despite their different journeys, their mutual suffering has brought them together, allowing them to find solace in love. It suggests that love can endure through adversity and flourish in the aftermath of pain, highlighting its extraordinary nature in the face of ordinary circumstances.
In practice
In a speech about overcoming challenges in relationships.
The most important thing is you can't write what you wouldn't read for pleasure. It's a mistake to analyze the market thinking you can write whatever is hot. You can't say you're going to write romance when you don't even like it. You need to write what you would read if you expect anybody else to read it.
You're the love of my life. I don't care how corny that sounds. You're the start of it, and the end of it. And you're the best of it.
Magic exists. Who can doubt it, when there are rainbows and wildflowers, the music of the wind and the silence of the stars? Anyone who has loved has been touched by magic. It is such a simple and such an extraordinary part of the lives we live.
Why couldn't she have this, just enjoy this, without creating obstacles, digging up problems, worrying about mistakes, about tomorrow's? Why let the maybe's, the what if's, the probabilities spoil something so lovely?
Happily ever after?" "If justice doesn't triumph and love doesn't make the circle in entertainment fiction, what's the point? Real life sucks too often.
...She'd gone past interest, swung into attraction, burst through lust, tripped over affection, and was now skidding out of control into love.
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.
I saw you dancing out the ocean_x000D_ _x000D_ Running fast along the sand_x000D_ _x000D_ A spirit born of earth and water_x000D_ _x000D_ Fire flying from your hands
It is not merely the likeness which is precious... but the association and the sense of nearness involved in the thing... the fact of the very shadow of the person lying there fixed forever! It is the very sanctification of portraits I think - and it is not at all monstrous in me to say that I would rather have such a memorial of one I dearly loved, than the noblest Artist's work ever produced.
Nobody dies from lack of sex. It's lack of love we die from.
She was happy, and perfectly in line with the tradition of those women they used to call "ruined," "fallen," feckless, bitches in heat, ravished dolls, sweet sluts, instant princesses, hot numbers, great lays, succulent morsels, everybody's darlings . . .
I've never known before what it feels like to want someone - not to want to hook up with them or whatever, but to want them, to want them. And now I do. So maybe I do believe in epiphanies.
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