Who would have thought something that happened that long ago could have such power?

Those who say they would rather fight to the death than be raped are fools. I would rather be raped a thousand times. You do what you have to.

All you have to do is desire it, and if you desire it enough and understand why -- really know -- it will come.

How could it be that you could love someone so much and keep it secret from yourself as you woke daily so far from home?

I knew something as I watched: almost everyone was saying goodbye to me. I was becoming one of the many little-girl-losts. They would go back to their homes and put me to rest, a letter from the past never to be reopened or reread. And I could say goodbye to them, wish them well, bless them somehow for their good thoughts. A handshake in the street, a dropped item picked up and retrieved and handed back, or a friendly wave from the distant window, a nod, a smile, a moment when the eyes lock over the antics of a child.

As if in the other side of his kiss there could ve a new life

I had rescued the moment by using my camera and in that way had found how to stop time and hold it. No one could take that image away from me because I owned it.