Frank Berg

“After eight days in the sun of the Virgin Islands her skin was
brown enough and her hair was returning to its natural colour. She
walked miles up and down the beaches and ate nothing except
fish and fruit. She slept a lot the first few days.

She looked at her wrist and then remembered that her watch
was in a bag somewhere. She didn't need it here. She woke with
the sun and went to bed after dark. But now she was waiting, so
she had looked at her wrist.

It was almost dark when the taxi stopped at the end of the small
road. He got out, paid the driver and looked at the lights as the car
disappeared back up the road. He had one bag. He could see a
light from the house between the trees at the edge of the beach,
and he walked towards it. He didn't know what to expect. He
knew how he felt about her, but did she feel the same?

She was waiting at the back of the house, looking out to sea,
with a drink in her hand. She smiled at him, put down her drink
and let him come to her.

They kissed for a long minute. 'You're late,' she said.”
― John Grisham, The Racketeer

“We have for too long been taught that the sight of a man speaking to himself is a sign of eccentricity or madness; we are no longer at all habituated to our own voices, except in conversation or from within the safety of a shouting crowd.”
― Teju Cole

“I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.”
― John Keats, Bright Star: Love Letters and Poems of John Keats to Fanny Brawne

“A deception that elevates us is dearer than a host of low truths.”
― Aleksander Pushkin