“(Darcy) "Why do you suppose she decided to come back…after all this time, I mean?"(Nick) "The barmaid?""Bronte""If I were to hazard a guess, I would suppose her mother finally convinced her she was on her deathbed.""I suppose, but since she's been on her deathbed for the past ten years that I know of. I'm thinking Bronte probably wouldn't fall for it."”
“It wasn't like that, darlin'." [Darcy] said quickly. "I swear on my mother's soul it wasn't!"Bronte bit her lip, trying not to smile. "Your mother is still living, is she not?"Darcy grinned sheepishly. "Yes, but…just the same.”
“. . . but there's a restraining order in place.' She speaks slowly, choosing her words carefully. 'I'm not supposed to be this close to you.'You were never supposed to be this close to me,' I say, and I have no idea why.”
“There’s no room in my life for a woman. I mean I live in a closet, and I suppose I could squish my clothes over and she could squeeze in, but where is she supposed to put her clothes? And her shoes, what about her shoes?”
“Hassan still had not come back when night fell and moonlight bathed the clouds. Sanaubar cried that coming back had been a mistake, maybe even a worse one than leaving. But I made her stay. Hassan would return, I knew. He came back the next morning, looking tired and weary, like he had not slept all night. He took Sanaubar's hand in both of his and told her she could cry if she wanted to but she needn't, she was home now, he said, home with her family. He touched the scars on her face, ran his hand through her hair...Sometimes, I would look out the window into the yard and watch Hassan and his mother kneeling together, picking tomatoes or trimming a rosebush, talking. They were catching up on all the lost years, I suppose. As far as I know he never asked where she had been or why she left and she never told. I guess some stories do not need telling. ”
“I decided Conrad was right after all. Ilsa was meant to be with Laszlo. That was the way it was always supposed to end. Rick was nothing but a tiny piece of her past, a piece that she would always treasure, but that was all, because history is just that. History.”