There is no end to things in the heart.

There is no end to things in the heart. Somebody once told me that. She said it came from a poem she believed in. She understood it to mean that if you took something to heart, really brought it inside those red velvet folds, then it would always be there for you. No matter what happened, it would be there waiting. She said this could mean a person, a place, a dream. A mission. Anything sacred. She told me that it is all connected in those secret folds. Always. It is part of the same and will always be there, carrying the same beat as your heart.

Lost Light [excerpt]
Michael Connelly

To the end

She broke the connection between their eyes just long enough to look down and find her glass and then raise it from the table. It was empty except for ice and a cherry but that didn’t matter. He raised his glass in return, maybe one swallow of beer and foam left in it.

“To the end,” she said.

He smiled and nodded. He loved her and she knew it.

“To the end,” he began and then paused. “To the place where the desert is ocean.”

She smiled back as they touched glasses. She raised hers to her lips and the cherry rolled into her mouth. She looked at him suggestively as he wiped the beer foam out of his mustache. She loved him. It was them against the whole fucking world and she liked their chances just fine.

Void Moon
Michael Connelly