“Our stares connected and we were quiet for a long minute, united by our misery. At least he understood me and I understood him."A fine pair we make,” he said."Yeah.”

“He had not understood that we were combat photographers, and our jobs were as relevant and justifiable—or as irrelevant and unjustifiable—as anyone’s in Vietnam.”

“He gave a small nod, and I smiled back, and that was it. He understood that I'd understood that he'd understood. It took us one sentence, two looks, and a nod - with another woman it would have been at least five minutes of out-loud talking. Lucky for me I spoke fluent guy.”

“Grandmamma had been the last connection to our past. I had understood her as some referent moral authority to whom we paid no heed, but by whose judgments we measured our waywardness.”

“He stood staring into the wood for a minute, then said: "What is it about the English countryside — why is the beauty so much more than visual? Why does it touch one so?"He sounded faintly sad. Perhaps he finds beauty saddening — I do myself sometimes. Once when I was quite little I asked father why this was and he explained that it was due to our knowledge of beauty's evanescence, which reminds us that we ourselves shall die. Then he said I was probably too young to understand him; but I understood perfectly.”

“Despite our differences, we did have a history. No one understood where I was coming from the way he did.”