“With twice his wits, she had to see things through his eyes -- one of the tragedies of married life.”

“She raised her eyes to his. They had both come from misery, she thought, and survived it. They had been drawn together through violence and tragedy, and had overcome it. They walked different paths and had found a mutual route.Some things last, she thought. Some ordinary things. Like love.”

“Then she saw him stop and wipe his brow with his handkerchief. Once, twice. And then once again. But she did not see the grin of relief spread over his face. That she did not see because her eyes had filled with tears. And the geraniums, they were just as sad. In any case, that's how they smelled.”

“Looking into his eyes, you seemed to see there the yet lingering images of those thousand-fold perils he had calmly confronted through life.”

“Gabriel slowly began rubbing his eyes, for in addition to suffering from one of the worst hangover headaches of his life, he was slightly enjoying the sight of Miss Mitchell in his T-shirt and boxer shorts, passionately angry and shouting at him in a multiplicity of Western European languages. It was the second most erotic thing he had ever witnessed. And it was entirely beside the point.”

“She had started driving past his apartment to see whether or not his car was out front. She had looked up his phone number, and twice she had called his apartment from the pay phone in school, knowing he wouldn’t be at home, just so she could hear how sexy his voice sounded on his answering machine. Was this what falling in love was supposed to feel like?”