Elizabeth Wein Quotes
-
Listening to the Rabbits talk about their operations was like watching a horror movie in a foreign language. You sort of hoped you’d misunderstood what was going on. And then when you figured out what was really going on, it was worse than you’d thought.
-
I am quite Pan-like in my naïve confidence that he will play by the rules and keep his word.
-
So, I have no sense of direction. In some of us it is a TRAGIC FLAW.
-
Must stop. This ink is amazing, it really doesn't smear, even when you cry on it.
-
Lucky for me I didn’t know. Why lucky for her? Not lucky for the people she was protecting, but lucky for Róża. She didn’t have to choose.
-
She gave a low and delighted chuckle. Her eyes were black as a moonless December night and reflected the electric lights like stars.
-
Incredible what slender threads you begin to hang your hopes on.
-
I need complicated railroad journeys and people speaking to me in foreign languages to keep me happy. I want to see the world and write stories about everything I see.
-
I sometimes think young people are not given nearly enough credit for their ability to appreciate literary flourish.
-
Don’t you think it makes them stronger when you give them someone to despise?
-
It is possible there are some things you want so badly that you will change your life to make them happen.
-
Even when you’re flying high and steady, the weight doesn’t go away—it’s just balanced by lift. I have worked pretty hard over the past year and a half to keep my life in balance. But the weight’s still there, waiting for an increase in gravity to pull me earthward again.
-
I think that what I do is a form of pathetic fallacy, the literary trope in which nature is in sympathy with the mood of the story. I connect the physical setting and props in the story to the emotional state of the characters.
-
It's very modern. Very gamine. You look like a jazz singer.
-
A part of me will always be unflyable, stuck in the climb.
-
And this, even more wonderful and mysterious, is also true: when I read it, when I read what Julie's written, she is instantly alive again, whole and undamaged. With her words in my mind while I'm reading, she is as real as I am. Gloriously daft, drop-dead charming, full of bookish nonsense and foul language, brave and generous. She's right here. Afraid and exhausted, alone, but fighting. Flying in silver moonlight in a plane that can't be landed, stuck in the climb—alive, alive, ALIVE.
-
Looking up at the stars and smoking in silence.
-
Everything I know about passive resistance I learned from Micheline. She always appeared to be doing exactly as she was told, but everything she did took twice as long as it should have.
-
These trials aren't about revenge. They're about justice. Don't you want justice, Rose Justice?
-
It is incredible what you do, knowing you have to.
-
She whispered, 'C'etait la Verite?' Was that Verity? Or perhaps she just meant, Was that the truth? Was it true? Did any of it really happen? Were the last three hours real? 'Yes,' I whispered back. 'Oui. C'etait la verite.
-
It's impossible to stall a Lizzie.
-
It makes you very uncomfortable to realize that your emotional attachment to something is an indulgence.
-
I don't recognise any of my emotions any more. There's no such thing as plain joy or grief. It's horror and relief and panic and gratitude all jumbled together.