It was Russia, January 5, 1943, and just another icy day. Out among the city and snow, there were dead Russians and Germans everywhere. Those who remained were firing into the blank pages in front of them. Three languages interwove. The Russian, the bullets, the German.

If you can't imagine it, think clumsy silence. Think bits and pieces of floating despair. And drowning in a train.

She gave 'The Dream Carrier' to Max as if words alone could nourish him.

Competence was attractive.

She was a girl with a mountain to climb.

It's funny, don't you think, how time seems to do a lot of things? It flies, it tells, and worst of all, it runs out.

You’re a human, you should understand self-obsession.