'You're proving to be a merciless ghost, Papa. I should have expected it, knowing you as I do,' Joanna said. Her tears were coming faster now. 'What do you mean to do, Papa? Shall you haunt me for the rest of my days?' Her voice broke; kneeling on the icy tiles before John's coffin, she wept bitterly.

Joanna: Mama... why do I not look like you? Why do I have hair black like a crow? Clemence: Because you take after him. That was all I asked of God, that I nee…

Joanna: Richard's arrival at Messina was a godsend, in truth, and I will ever be grateful to him. Yet I do not doubt you'd have done as much for me too, Johnny…

Eleanor: It is a pretty fiction that mothers love each child in equal measure... a fiction, no more than that. There is always a favorite. With me, it was Rich…