Marie Colvin was the kind of woman I wanted to be. Married three times, twice to the same man and once to a dashing Latino who was said to write like an angel in his native language, Marie Colvin was an Ivy League girl who jumped right into life shortly after she tossed her mortar board in the air at Yale. I loved her. She was tough, she was brave and she was immensely talented. Her writing, speeches and reporting were inspiring to the point of humility.
[She was not interested in the politics, strategy or weaponry; only the effects on the people she regarded as innocents.] Roy Greenslade guardian.co.uk Marie Colvin obituary
When I read Helen Adams in the Lotus Eaters, it was easily Colvin who I imagined, without the eye patch. But Helen was fiction and Marie was not. Helen walked down a long road into the future. Marie is gone and remembered today.
I heard the news this morning while I was driving to work and it hit me like a piercing. The grief I experienced over journalism’s loss of Marie Colvin wasn’t something I could share; I kept it closed in my chest somewhere and felt it like a ball of heavy smoke all day.
There’s a sad piano concerto here. What wants to happen now is outrage in Damascus.
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