“I rose and went through the curtains into the bedroom. There was nothing I wanted there, except to get away for a moment from that silence sitting in a chair. Phuong’s picture books were back on the shelf. She had stuck a telegram for me up among the cosmetics — some message or other from the London office. I wasn’t in the mood to open it. Everything was as it had been before Pyle came. Rooms don’t change, ornaments stay where you place them: only the heart decays.”
— Graham Greene, The Quiet American
