“Do you know what O'Keefe Says about blue? he asked her, blowing out a cloud of smoke, warming to her voice, though he did not remember her face clearly from the opening night's exhibition.What?That it is the color that will remain after everything is destroyed.”

“Did he happen to select a color too?""Blue.""Blue?" Victoria burst out, prepared to do physical battle for white.Madame nodded, her finger thoughtfully pressed to her lips, her own hand plunked upon her waist. "Yes, blue. Ice blue. He said you are glorious in that color-'a titian-haired angel,' he said"Victoria abruptly decided ice blue was a lovely color to be married in.”

“Sweet Jovah singing, he had slept beside her all night, and kept her warm with his wings; and perhaps he did not hate her after all.”

“He had a clear, lyrical voice and his songs remained in her ears long after the music had ended.”

“To be fair to Monica," I said, "what you did to her wasn't very nice either.""What'd I do to her?" he asked, defensive."You know, going blind and everything.""But that's not my fault," Isaac said."I'm not saying it was your fault. I'm saying it wasn't nice.”

“Years after the war, after marriages, children, divorces, books, he came to Paris with his wife. He phoned her. It's me. She recognized him at once from the voice. He said, I just wanted to hear your voice. She said, it's me, hello. He was nervous, afraid, as before. His voice suddenly trembled. And with the trembling, suddenly, she heard again the voice of China. He knew she'd begun writing books, he'd heard about it through her mother whom he'd met again in Saigon. And about her younger brother, and he'd been grieved for her. Then he didn't know what to say. And then he told her. Told her that it was as before, that he still loved her, he could never stop loving her, that he'd love her until death.”