Valerie saw Cesaire's eyes resting upon Suzette's reclining form. Valerie wondered whether he really saw her there anymore. After eighteen years of marriage, Cesaire did not seem to notice her gentleness with her children or her sun-streaked hair in the summer months. Was that what marriage was, an inability to see who the person was, the way that we don't know ourselves because we stand too close?
— Catherine Hardwicke