185
" Awhorehouse? Really?” Eva asked thirty minutes later as they stood on a seedy side street in Pigalle, looking up at a stone building with opening hours listed on the left windowpane in both German and French. “You want me to stay here?” “First of all, it’s called a brothel, not a whorehouse.” Rémy grinned at her, obviously enjoying her discomfort. “A brothel, a bordello, a cathouse, does it matter?” “Well, considering the fine folks here will be putting us up for the night, I would suggest being polite. "
― Kristin Harmel , The Book of Lost Names
186
" My Eva. After all these years, I am still his, and he is still mine. "Épouse-moi. Je t'aime. That's what I wrote. I---I love you. Rémy. I always have." "I love you, too, Eva. And if the offer is still open, my answer is yes." And then he closes the final inches between us, and his lips are on mine, and I'm twenty-five again, my whole life ahead of me rather than behind, all the chapters still unwritten. "
― Kristin Harmel , The Book of Lost Names
197
" But here, window boxes overflowed with peppermint, chervil, and geraniums of pink, lilac, and white, while ivy crept cheerfully up the walls of stone buildings that looked as if they’d been here since long before the French Revolution. Clothes dried on lines strung across wooden balconies, and even the church overlooking the small town seemed to glow, the lights inside illuminating the colorful windows. The town square was anchored by a stone fountain featuring a bearded man with a cross in one hand and a pitcher of water in the other. Water gurgled cheerfully around the statue’s feet. This was a town whose heart hadn’t yet been trampled, and for a few seconds, Eva didn’t know what to make of it. "
― Kristin Harmel , The Book of Lost Names