“Who would have ever thought that the best way to save lives was to take one? But then that was what Joe had preached to her from the first day on her job. He even had a name for it. Political pruning. In order to make the tree grow, the dead, diseased, and contaminated limbs had to be removed. If they didn’t fall off on their own, then you had to get the chain saw out and cut them loose. At first she’d been naïve enough to think that she could never be so jaded. But time and missions had finally succeeded in bringing her around to Joe’s way of thinking. (Syd)”

“No, I wanted to say, he didn't cut off her hands because he didn't have to, he had cut them off long before, with years of keeping all authority in his own palms, all the rules and all the power and all the answers emanating from him and no one else. And if you don't understand that, if you've never been in such a family, then you can't know the way the mind shackles itself and amputates its own limbs so adeptly that you never think to miss them, never think that you had anything so obscene as choice.”

“He thought about alone in Constantinople that time, having quarreled in Paris before he had gone out. He had whored the whole time and then, when that was over, and he had failed to kill his loneliness, but only made it worse, he had written her, the first one, the one who left him, a letter telling her how he had never been able to kill it . . . . How when he thought he saw her outside the Regence one time it made him go all faint and sick inside, and that he would follow a woman that looked like her in some way, along the Boulevard, afraid to see it was not she, afraid to lose the feeling it gave him. How every one he had slept with had only made him miss her more. How what she had done could never matter since he could never cure himself of loving her.”

“Aidan’s hands itched to strangle the woman. He had known Marie from the moment of her birth—sixty two years ago—and they had never exchanged a cross word. And he suddenly wanted to strangle her. He should have ripped Ivan’s throat out. Flowers. Why hadn’t he thought of flowers? Why hadn’t Marie mentioned it to him first? Why had she accepted them? Whose side was she on, anyway? Flowers! He had the urge to rip those petals off one by one.“Look,” Marie cooed, “he even had the thorns removed so you wouldn’t hurt yourself. What a thoughtful man.”“What time did you tell the police we would see them?” Aidan interrupted, afraid that if he didn’t he would erupt into violence. He detested the way Alexandria kept caressing the petals of one of the white roses.”

“This was maybe the first time she’d done it when she’d felt the true intimacy of it. The first time she’d done it because she wanted to express her feelings for a guy in some new way she hadn’t before. The first time it meant something.The fact was, sex with a man she cared for was making all other sex pale in comparison. No wonder sex with Mike had been the best of her life from the very start—caring for him had been…destiny.Destiny in Destiny.”

“She had to reach. She had to want it more than she’d ever wanted anything. She had to grab like a drowning girl for every good thing that came her way and she had to swim like fuck away from every bad thing. She had to count the years and let them roll by, to grow up and then run as far as she could in the direction of her best and happiest dreams across the bridge that was built by her own desire to heal.”