Les meilleurs secoueurs de mots étaient ceux qui avaient compris le pouvoir des mots. Ceux qui pouvaient monter le plus haut. Parmi eux se trouvait une fillette toute menue. On la considérait comme la...
La alegría le mostraría el camino al sufrimiento.
Just give hime five more minutes and he would surely fall into the German gutter and die. They would all let him, and they would all watch.
Just be patient, she told herself, and with the mounting pages, the strength of her writing fist grew.
Jewish shops that were still in operation in Molching. Inside, a small man was stuttering about, crushing the broken glass beneath his feet as he cleaned up.
Jesse Owens? Mr. Steiner was the type of man who was very wooden. His voice was angular and true. His body was tall and heavy, like oak. His hair was like splinters. What about him?
I’m going to find him. Your papa? Yes. He thought about it. Actually, no. I think I’ll find the Führer instead. Faster footsteps. Why? Rudy stopped. Because I want to kill him. He even turned on the s...
I’m Angelina, she says. Are you here to save us? I can see a tiny spark of hope awaken in her eyes.You’re right, Angelina - I’m here to save you.Can you? Really?I’ll try, I say and the girl smiles.
It's not the place, I think. It's the people. We'd have all been the same anywhere else.
It's also worthy of mention that every pattern has at least one small bias, and one day it will tip itself over or fall from one page to another.
It's about glowing lights and small things that are big.
It was pointless. The crowd was itself. There was no swaying it, squeezing through, or reasoning with it. You breathed with it and you sang its songs. You waited for its fire.
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...
It travelled and wondered, but it disclosed no answers. Not yet.
It makes me think of my life, my nonexistent accomplishments and my overall abilities in incompetence.
It kills me sometimes, how people die.
Imagine smiling after a slap in the face. Then think of doing it twenty-four hours a day. That was the business of hiding a Jew.
If nothing else, the old man would die like a human. Or at least with the thought that he was a human.
I'm not the messenger at all. I'm the message.
I'm asking you, I'm begging you, could you please shut your mouth for just five minutes?You can imagine the reaction. They ended up in the basement.