Suddenly, and for the first time, he was at the center of his own life, living it and loving it.

He had always felt that he lived on the edges of life, Constantine realized, watching everyone else living, sometimes helping them do it.

After you married, Crispin, she said, my heart was broken. I will not deny it. But I did not slip into a sort of suspended life that would be forever gray and meaningless if you did not somehow come back to me. I put back the pieces of my heart and kept on living. I am not the woman I was when I was in love with you and expecting to marry you. I am not the woman I was when I heard that you were married. I am the woman I have become in the five years since then, and she is a totally different person. I like her. I wish to continue living her life.

And she was terribly aware that she was alive. Not just living and breathing, but ...alive.

He gazed up at the blue sky and knew that heaven—at least in this life—was neither a time nor a place
to be grasped and made into a possession. It came in fleeting moments and then went away again to
leave one nostalgic and yearning and on the verge of tears.
Very much on the verge of tears.
And very frightened.

But the things is, you see, that two people can never actually become one no matter how close they are. And it would not be desirable even if it were possible. What would happen when one of them died? It would leave the other as a half a person, and that would be a dreadful thing. We must each be a whole person and therefore we each need some privacy to be alone with ourselves and our own feelings.