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In that split-second I felt she had seen everything. Me, him, the space between us.
We knew we were too young for our bodies.
I thought, If I speak, all this will be true. I knew the words spoken would turn into the truth lived.
I was so grateful that my heart beat by itself because I knew I would never be able to make it work if I had to do it. My heart's independent beats, beats that worked no matter what terrible thing had happened, made me feel tenderness toward my body and my insignificant life.
He gave me two cigarettes and said, Go on girl, set yourself on fire.
I believe in love at first sight. Be careful what you look at.
I understood everyone was walking around with secrets and broken bones and hurtful words that could not be washed away with soap.
My mother was a cup of sugar. You could borrow her anytime.
I try to understand, how was it possible to survive amid this endless experience of dying?
Each time the truth is unbearable.
They died in the basements of the Gestapo, and their courage was known only to the walls. And now, forty years later, I mentally kneel to them.
In war everything happens more quickly: both life and death. In those few years we lived a whole life.
Suffering is a special kind of knowledge.
Love is the only personal event in wartime. All the rest is common - even death.
For me one human being is so much. There is everything in him - you can get lost.
The past disappeared, it blinded her with its scorching whirl and vanished, but the human being remained. Remained in the midst of ordinary life. Everything around is ordinary except her memory.
It's terrible to remember, but it's far more terrible not to remember.
You ask me: what is happiness? I answer...To suddenly find a living man among the dead.
We look at the past from today; we cannot look at it from anywhere else.
I build temples out of our feelings. Out of our desires, our disappointments. Dreams. Out of which was, but might slip away.