Colleen McCullough

Belief doesn't rest on proof or existence...it rests on faith...without faith there is nothing.

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.

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.

Luke__ not a bad man, or even an unlikable one,_ she went on. __ust a man. You__e all the same, great big hairy moths bashing yourselves to pieces after a silly flame behind a glass so clear your eyes don__ see it. And if you do manage to blunder your way inside the glass to fly into the flame, you fall down burned and dead.While all the time out there in the cool night there__ food, and love, and baby moths to get. But do you see it, do you want it? No! It__ back after the flame again, beating yourselves senseless until you burn yourselves dead!