Elizabeth Wein Quotes
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If I am very lucky - I mean if I am clever about it - I will get myself shot. Here, soon.
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If you're scared, do something.
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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.
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I AM A COWARD.
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Don’t you think it makes them stronger when you give them someone to despise?
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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.
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I am like a ruined piece of parchment scrawled over and over again with your name, so many times it has become illegible.
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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.
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There’s glory and honour in being chosen. But not much room for free will.
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You know how sometimes when you come home and you haven't seen a place for so long that it seems unbelievably beautiful, and you want to cry because you love it so much you think it's going to break your heart? I felt like that, too. I am HOME.
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For the pleasure of giving, because what's the point of just having? If I give a thing, I remember how happy we both were when I made the gift.
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Don't know how I kept going. You just do. You have to, so you do.
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The soaring mountains rose around her, and the poets’ waters glittered beneath her in the valleys of memory—hosts of golden daffodils, Swallows and Amazons, Peter Rabbit.
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I realized I would be forced to run away from home if someone tried to arrange a marriage for me. I didn't want to think about it.
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It's like being in love, discovering your best friend.
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It makes you very uncomfortable to realize that your emotional attachment to something is an indulgence.
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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.
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The ballpoint pen was invented by László Bíró, a Hungarian journalist who fled to Argentina to escape the German occupation of Europe. In 1943 he licensed his invention to the RAF, and the first ballpoint pens were manufactured in Reading, England, by the Miles aircraft manufacturer, to supply pilots with a lasting ink supply!
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A poet and a doctor. Maybe I could. This the first thought I have of it. Maybe I could.
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...unless you were doing them a favor by killing them. Then, you'd let them down if you didn't, if you couldn't make yourself.
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The fuss made over the chickens at the checkpoints is not to be believed. Unlike me they had their own papers.
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Please come back soon. The window is always open.
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It's impossible to stall a Lizzie.
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Maddie quickly pulled down the blackout curtains over her bright and vulnerable soul.