“No militia or political leader is so powerful - his name never so influential - as when he is dead, enshrined on wall posters and gateposts amid naively painted clusters of tulips and roses, the final artistic accolade of every armed martyr in Lebanon.”

“The artist must manage to make posterity believe that he never existed.”

“every good artist paints what he is”

“My throat tightened when I noticed a small tattoo of an origami rose on his upper arm. . . "Hey, Lenzi," he whispered, barely louder than the surf."Rose," I said as our lips met. "My name is Rose.”

“But he grins, so brilliantly, not even paying attention. “I love it when you say my name,” he says. “I don’t even know why.” “Warner isn't your name,” I point out. “Your name is *****.” His smile is wide, so wide. “God, I love that.”“Your name?”“Only when you say it.”“*****? Or Warner?”His eyes close. He tilts his head back against the wall. Dimples.”

“The secret to so many artists living so long is that every painting is a new adventure. So, you see, they're always looking ahead to something new and exciting. The secret is not to look back.”