They can march for days without eating. They impregnate every schoolgirl they meet.
There are, he assures her, no such things as curses. There is luck, maybe, bad or good. A slight indication of each day toward success or failure. But no curses.
The war drops its question mark.
That his daughter is so curious, so resilient. There is the humility of being a father to someone so powerful, as if he were only a narrow conduit for another, greater thing. That’s how it feels right...
See obstacles as opportunities. See obstacles as inspiration.
Out there people chase questions of great importance.
Open your eyes, concluded the man, and see what you can with them before they close forever
Open your eyes and see what you can with them before they close forever (pages
Only through the hottest fires, whispers the radio, can purification be achieved. Only through the harshest tests can God’s chosen rise.
One section of the old city, tucked against the western walls, becomes a firestorm in which the spires of flames, at their highest, reach three hundred feet. The appetite for oxygen is such that objec...
Maybe the Sea of Flames never existed at all, maybe curses aren’t real, maybe her father is right: Earth is all magma and continental crust and ocean. Gravity and time. Stones are just stones and rain...
Marie-Laure sits among them, wondering who will cave, who will tattle, who will be the bravest. Who will lie on her back and let her last breath curl up to the ceiling as a curse upon the invaders.
Las piedras no son más que piedras, la lluvia no es más que lluvia y la desgracia es solo mala suerte. Por
It would not have been possible for us to take power or to use it in the ways we have without the radio. —Joseph Goebbels
It becomes known as the time of the ostriches. Do we have our heads in the sand, Madame? Or do they? Maybe everybody does, she murmurs. Madame
I think, Werner says, feeling as though some cupboard in the sky has just opened, we just found a radio.
I am only alive because I have not died.
How do you ever know that you are doing the right thing?
His mother the Ice Queen. The only thing he still had of hers was a book: Snow Crystals, by W. A. Bentley. Inside were thousands of carefully prepared micrographs of snowflakes, each image reproduced...
He was just a boy. They all were. Even the largest of them.