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“Callan sucked in a breath. As a sniper, he’d been trained by the Marines to know and recognize moments. 

Moments when all the training—his focused mind, muscle memory, weapon knowledge . . . 

When all the preparation—target reconnaissance, angle of attack, position scouting . . . 

When all the setup—hidden amid the terrain, barrel aimed, trajectory known . . . 

When everything came together in one crucial moment—when the sniper squeezed the trigger and took his shot.”
― J. Rose Black, Losing My Breath

“That noise you are hearing, drowning out
the blows of life, is the wind touching the fronds of the thirty or so eighty-foot-tall palm trees encircling the centrally located swimming pool. You have fun thinking this sound might be the Holy Spirit.”
― Tom Hillman, Digging for God

“The lieutenant of the youth's company was shot in the hand. He began to swear so wondrously that a nervous laugh went along the regimental line. The officer's profanity sounded conventional. It relieved the tightened senses of the new men. It was as if he had hit his fingers with a tack hammer at home.”
― Stephen Crane, The Red Badge of Courage

“   At one side of the creek, she builds a small cairn of stones underneath a large, oak tree.  “In remembrance of Aunt Beca,” she says.  “Thank you for all the things you taught me.  For all the times you listened when I needed someone to talk to.  For all the love and support you offered me.”
― Dawn Chalker, Lost and Found