“Her voice was preserved. Out of the millions that were silenced, this voice was no louder than a child's whisper... It has outlasted the shouts of the murders and has soared above the voices of time.”

“There are times when silence has the loudest voice.”

“It is also true that memory sometimes comes to him as a voice. It is a voice that speaks inside him, and it is not necessarily his own. It speaks to him in the way a voice might tell stories to a child, and yet at times this voice makes fun of him, or calls him to attention, or curses him in no uncertain terms. At times it willfully distorts the story it is telling him, changing the facts to suit its whims, catering to the interests of drama rather than truth. Then he must speak to it in his own voice and tell it to stop, thus returning it to the silence it came from. At other times it sings to him. At still other times it whispers. And then there are the times it merely hums, or babbles, or cries out in pain. And even when it says nothing, he knows it is still there, and in the silence of this voice that says nothing, he waits for it to speak.”

“The air has a voice and it whispers trouble, trouble.”

“Out of silence I begin to hear the voices of characters whispering snippets of a story to me.”

“She cut her eyes to the woods and whispered, "We're not alone, remember?""I don't care who hears it. I love you!" His voice rose louder this time.She frowned. "Nothing's changed.""Everything has changed," he said.”