“He knew what it was like to love one who did not--or could not--love you back. But he'd had no choice. None of them did.”

“Then he'd come back home and found out that war didn't cause fear—love did.”

“What was it to love someone, what was love exactly, and why did it end or not end? Those were the real questions, and who could answer them?”

“No one was perfect. But we all did the best we could. I guessed you had to forgive when you could, move on when you couldn't, and love your family and friends for who they were instead of punishing them for who they weren't.”

“Mossadeq made the crowds laugh and cry. He confirmed their prejudices and superstitions and flattered their vanities - they were, in most cases, all they had left. They loved him, but did he love them? No one could know for sure.”

“She had loved him. He knew this; he had never doubted it. But she had also asked him to kill her. If you love someone that much, you did not lay that sort of burden on him for the rest of his life.”

“But he had been in love once, that he knew. Once and only once, and a long time ago. And it had changed him forever. Perfect love did that to a person and this had been perfect.”

“To love someone enough to let them go, you had to let them go forever or you did not love them that much.”

“I still believed he'd love me again somehow, love me that intense, thick way he did, the way that made everything good.”

“He don't love you like I love you
If he did, he wouldn't break your heart
He don't love you like I love you
He's try-in' to tear us apart.”