“Emile was not like you, not attached to houses. For you, houses are like people, are they not, they have a soul, a heart, they live and breathe. Houses remember.”

“You get attached to places, you know. Like people, I suppose.”

“She bent her chin to her chest. She mumbled something I did not catch. It sounded like, "Shame on us all for not having stopped it.”

“Zakhor. Al Tichkah. Remember. Never forget.”

“I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror as we glided p. I looked as eroded as the groaning lift. What had happened to the fresh-faced belle from Boston, Mass.? The woman who stared back at me was at the dreaded age between forty-five and fifty, that no-man's land of sag, oncoming wrinkle, and stealthy approach of menopause."I hate this elevator, too," I said grimly.Zoe grinned and pinched my cheek."Mom, even Gwyneth Paltrow would look like hell in that mirror."I had to smile. That was such a Zoe-like remark.”

“You were a quiet man, yet you took up a vast amount of silent space and that was what I missed.”

“Michel. In my dreams, you come and get me. You take me by the hand and you lead me away. This life is too much for me to bear. I look at the key and I long for you and for the past. For the innocent, easy days before the war. I know now my scars will never heal. I hope my son will forgive me. He will never know. No one will ever know.”