“After everything he'd built, planned, fought for, fretted over, dreamed of, this was the summation of his life; one disappointing son and two suitcases.”

“With one long breath, caught and held in his chest, he fought his sadness over his solitary life. Don't cry, you idiot! Live or die, but don't poison everything...”

“The vulnerability undid him even as the strength brought him pride. And the whole of her brought him love beyond the measuring of it.Of all he'd craved in his life, all he'd dreamed of having, all he'd fought to gain by fair means or foul, he'd never imagined having such such as she as his own. Never imagined himself the man he'd come to be because she was.”

“There was just no good way for a dead son to greet his mother almost two weeks after his funeral.”

“He'd told his son recently that life was luck. But life, he'd come to realize as he aged, was also memory. The recollection of moments often proved richer than the moment themselves.”

“You are very cross tonight, Hart. Perhaps the lady disappointed you."Hart stared at her over the glass he'd started to raise. "What lady?""The one whose perfume you positively reak of."His brows went up."You mean the Countess von Hohenstahlen? She's eighty-two and drenches herself in scents that would make a tart blush."Oh.”