He is just protective over me-” “Not protective, Tania. Consumed.

Courage, Alexan­der,” she whis­pered. “Courage, Ta­tiana.

Shura, I’m yours. You may not like it today, you may not want it tonight, you may wish for it all to be different now, but it remains, and I remain, as always, only yours. Nothing can change that. Not your wrath, your fists, your body or your death.

Shura...are you...in love with me?" "Turn to me," Alexander said. She turned. "Tatia, I worship you. I'm crazy in love with you. I want you to marry me.

Memory - that fiend, that cruel enemy of comfort.

When I was growing up, 'Anna Karenina' was one of my favourite books.

But on that sunlit Sunday, Alexander knew nothing, thought nothing, imagined nothing. He forgot Dimitri and war and the Soviet Union and escape plans, and even America, and crossed the street for Tatiana Metanova.