“Whaddaya want?" growled Viola, our small, surly, octogenarian waitress.What did I want? A job. A clue. A love."Two coffees," Len answered for me.Coffee would do for now, I guess.”

“What I don't want is to be called an octogenarian. I saw 'Octogenarian Jane Gardam' and I thought 'Blow me!' I mean, I am, but that's not the point."(Inteview, The Guardian, 8 January 2011)”

“I don't know. I really don't. While I was in the living room, I kept asking myself what I really wanted in life." She squeezed his hand. "And do you know what the answer was? The answer was that I wanted two things. First, I want you. I want us. I love you and I always have.”

“How do you want us to tune the lens and our eyes are filled with tears”

“I don't do my job to catch the bad guys. Why would I want to do that? No, I do my job to make order out of chaos.”

“Louis-Cesare’s anger suddenly filled the small room like water, and in a heartbeat his eyes went from silver tinged to as solid as two antique coins.I sat frozen, awash in a sea of power. I was beginning to understand why Mircea had wanted him along, only Daddy had failed to mention anything about the hair-trigger temper. I guess he assumed the red hair would clue me in.”