“Amos Vogel was a mentor, a guiding light for me. In his presence, you always rose. But his importance to me is of minor significance. What is significant is that with him an entire epoch ends. The Last Lion has left us.I am still not capable – or rather unwilling – to understand the fact that Amos passed away, because a man like him cannot be dead. His traces are everywhere.(on the passing of Amos Vogel, his friend for more than 45 years)”

“If you’re looking for the origins of film culture in America, look no further than Amos Vogel.”

“No poet, no artist of any art, has his complete meaning alone. His significance, his appreciation is the appreciation of his relation to the dead poets and artists. You cannot value him alone; you must set him, for contrast and comparison, among the dead.”

“Amos sipped his coffee. The faraway look on his face reminded me of my dad. “I don’t want to scare you.”“Too late.”

“Anything your father said. People he might have mentioned.”“Amos,” I blurted out, just to see his reaction. “He met a man named Amos.”Inspector Williams sighed. “Sadie, he couldn’t have done. Surely you know that. We spoke with Amos not one hour ago, on the phone from his home in New York.”“He isn’t in New York!” I insisted. “He’s right—”I glanced out the window and Amos was gone. Bloody typical.”

“His idea was still with me, because it was not a vapor sunshine could disperse, nor a sand-traced effigy storms could wash away; it was a name graven on a tablet, fated to last as long as the marble it inscribed. The craving to know what had become of him followed me everywhere.”