“Her voice was caught in the shell of my ear, as if it were the ocean.”
“No,” he responded, reaching out to trace the shell of her ear. “They grew back even more beautiful. Blue edged with silver.” Elena laughed at the scowl in his voice.”
“Then he raised her enough to whisper in her ear, and while his voice was tender, his words were savage. "You're my woman, and no man or God or ghost will ever take you from me.”
“Hey back,' I say, my voice low beside her ear. She shivers. I love that.”
“The voices of cold reason were talking, as usual, to deaf ears.”
“Her eye, her ear, were tuning forks, burning glasses, which caught the minutest refraction or echo of a thought or feeling .... She heard a deeper vibration, a kind of composite echo, of all that the writer said, and did not say.”