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It's an illusion I've noticed before-- words on a page are like oxygen to a petrol engine, firing up ghosts. It only lasts while the words are in your head. After you put down the paper or pen, the pistons fall lifeless again.

Elizabeth Wein

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Elizabeth Wein
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Page
Firing
Illusion
Ghosts
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Head
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Pistons
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Noticed
Petrol
Fall
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Lifeless

More quotes by Elizabeth Wein

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Five years of destruction and mayhem, lives lost everywhere, shortages of food and fuel and clothing - and the insane mind behind it just urges us all on and on to more destruction. And we all keep playing.
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One moment flying in green sunlight, then the sky suddenly grey and dark.
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You can come back to friendship. You can let it drop, for five years or ten years, and come back to it.
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She whispered, 'C'etait la Verite?' Was that Verity? Or perhaps she just meant, Was that the truth? Was it true? Did any of it really happen? Were the last three hours real? 'Yes,' I whispered back. 'Oui. C'etait la verite.
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But I have told the truth. Isn't that ironic? They sent me because I am so good at telling lies. But I have told the truth.
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There’s glory and honour in being chosen. But not much room for free will
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Please come back soon. The window is always open.
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There were no route maps posted on the walls, but a Wonderland-style sign commanding, 'If you know where you are, then please tell others.
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We are a sensational team.
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Von Loewe really should know me well enough by now to realize that I am not going to face my execution without a fight. Or with anything remotely resembling dignity.
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A part of me will always be unflyable, stuck in the climb.
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Southampton's barrage balloons floated gleaming in the moonlight like the ghosts of elephants and hippos.
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But a part of me lies buried in lace and roses on a riverbank in France-a part of me is broken off forever. A part of me will be unflyable, stuck in the climb.
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Oh Julie, wouldn’t I know if you were dead? Wouldn’t I feel it happening, like a jolt of electricity to my heart?
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It's impossible to stall a Lizzie.
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Incredible what slender threads you begin to hang your hopes on.
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Don't know how I kept going. You just do. You have to, so you do.
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I think as readers we put ourselves in the protagonist's place because we want to be like that person. That's why sometimes we don't like protagonists who aren't all that nice we want to relate to the protagonist.
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Careless talk costs lives.
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Hope is the most treacherous thing in the world. It lifts you and lets you plummet. But as long as you're being lifted you don't worry about plummeting.
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