“Both Nina and the nation were in decline. Their fates combined read like a logline for a film noir script: a War on Terror has been declared, poison letters mailed, and a dark-haired dame is in a heap of trouble.”

“Mahatma Nina, draped in her fuchsia pashmina shawl, surrounded by supplicants, soaks it all in. They lay hands on her for comfort, to impart well wishes; Nina feeds off their touch, but she can’t reciprocate in kind. Although her heart’s willing, her body fights back. A simple hug has become a priceless act.”

“I’ve been to San Francisco once, Pearl often announces, regardless of being asked. Of this one fact she’s certain. The rest of her personal history is like putting together a thrift store puzzle.”