For a long time, she sat and saw. She had seen her brother die with one eye open, on still in a dream. She had said goodbye to her mother and imagined her lonely wait for a train back home to oblivion. A woman of wire had laid herself down, her screa...
The only thing worse than a boy who hates you: a boy that loves you.
It's much easier . . . to be on the verge of something than to actually be it. This would still take time.
She wanted none of those days to end, and it was always with disappointment that she watched the darkness stride forward.
If only she could be so oblivious again, to feel such love without knowing it, mistaking it for laughter.
The sky is blue today, Max, and there is a big long cloud, and it's stretched out, like a rope. At the end of it, the sun is like a yellow hole. . .
A DEFINITION NOT FOUND IN THE DICTIONARY Not leaving: an act of trust and love, often deciphered by children
a young man is still a boy, and a boy sometimes has the right to be stubborn.
He switched off the light, came back and sat in the chair. In the darkness, Liesel kept her eyes open. She was watching the words.
It was the beginning of the greatest Christmas ever. Little food. No presents. But there was a snowman in their basement.
A GUIDED TOUR OF SUFFERING: To your left, perhaps your right, perhaps even straight ahead, you find a small black room. In it sits a Jew. He is scum. He is starving. He is afraid. Please - try not to look away.
If you can't imagine it, think clumsy silence. Think bits and pieces of floating despair. And drowning in a train.
If nothing else, they died fast and they were warm. The boy from the plane, I thought. The one with the teddy bear. Where was Rudy's confort? Where was someone to alleviate this robbery of his life? Who was there to soothe him as life's rug was snatc...
It kills me sometimes, how people die.
Even death has a heart.
They say that war is death's best friend, but I must offer you a different point of view on that one. To me, war is like the new boss who expects the impossible. He stands over your shoulder repeating one thin, incessantly: 'Get it done, get it done....
A halo surrounded the grim reaper nun, Sister Maria. (By the way-I like this human idea of the grim reaper. I like the scythe. It amuses me.)
I could introduce myself properly, but it's not really necessary. You will know me well enough and soon enough, depending on a diverse range of variables. It suffices to say that at some point in time, I will be standing over you, as genially as poss...
