“Pictures could not be accessories to the story -- evidence -- they had to contain the story within the frame; the best picture contained a whole war within one frame.”

“But now she did belong to the ravaged city - her frame grown gaunt, her shoulders hunched from tiredness, the bone-sharp jaw line that had lost the padded baby fat of pretty, her blue gaze dark and inward.”

“She consoled herself with the thought that the pictures were graphic enough to shake people up, stop them being complacent about what was happening, and if that meant the war would end sooner, those two deaths weren't in vain. As she hoped, with less and less confidence each day, that Michael's had not been in vain. Too much waste to bear.”

“Once a picture was taken, the experience was purged of its power to haunt.”

“The only tangible evidence of the enemy's existence so far was dead bodies, but strangely, the dead were somehow less, did not match the fear and terror they inspired, much like one could not imagine flight from the evidence of a dead bird on the ground.”

“Clear now that she was as dependent as any addict on the drug of the war. He had underestimated the damage in her.”

“Saigon in utter darkness this last night of the war. A gestating monster. Her letter to Linh had been simple: I love you more than life, but I had to see the end.”