Pam

“Who are you?” I whispered, leaning forward and reaching across the table to touch his sternly gorgeous face, almost afraid he’d disappear beneath my fingertips. “The face of an angel, the soul of a poet, and the fists of a fighter. I don’t know how to understand you, Mickey.”
Mickey caught my hand with his and then turned his head and pressed a soft kiss in my palm. “I’m not the only poet at this table.”
― Lucy Connors, The Lonesome Young

“What makes us the strongest tribe on the continent is the fact that a group that opposes these values--a group that would have mankind remain in the new dark ages--is permitted to grow, permitted to exist...and, after it becomes a violent terrorist organization, is allowed to live on it own lands, taken out of the lands of those it has attacked and continues to attack!" He had to stop speaking then--the applause was louder than even his amplified voice. "They expect that fear will drive us to become like them...closed-minded, blind, angry. Our society will remain open and free so long as I am standing upright," he continued, once the applause died down.”
― Lia Habel, Dearly, Departed

“Blood might be thicker than water, but love was the most powerful magic of all.”
― Lucy Connors, The Lonesome Young

“This is Lonesome Ridge, so we’d be the lonesome young,” I pointed out. “Sounds like a song.”
“Sounds like a heartache,” he said, tightening his arms around me and resting his cheek on the top of my heard. “I don’t want to be lonesome. I want to be with you.”
― Lucy Connors, The Lonesome Young