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Tatiana: Why did we spend two days fighting when we could have been doing this? Alexander: That wasn't fighting, Tatiana. That was foreplay.

Paullina Simons

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Paullina Simons
Age: 61
Born: 1963
Born: January 1
Translator
Writer
St. Petersburg
Two
Foreplay
Alexander
Spend
Wasn
Days
Fighting

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Love is, to be loved,” said Alexander, “in return.
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With my writing, because I live it, I have to be consumed by it, and that means you have to forget your other life, which is constantly pulling you from your work.
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You are my hand grenade, my artillery fire. You have replaced my heart with yourself.
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Tatiana realized she was too young to hide well what was in her heart but old enough to know that her heart was in her eyes.
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I don't want this life to end, said Alexander. The good, the bad, the everything, the very old, to ever end.
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In Alexander's life there was one thread that could not be broken by death, by distance, by time, by war. Could not be broken. As long as I am in the world, she said with her breath and her body, as long as I am, you are permanent, soldier.
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Good-bye, my moonsong and my breath, my white nights and golden days, my fresh water and my fire. Good-bye, and may you find a better life, find comfort again and your breathless smile, and when your beloved face lights up once more at the Western sunrise, be sure what I felt for you was not in vain. Good-bye and have faith, my Tatiana.
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I'll take your breath any way you give it to me, Shura.
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Courage, Alexan­der,” she whis­pered. “Courage, Ta­tiana.
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I know that sometimes the things we carry become too much for us. We are burned down, but somehow we have to pick ourselves up and keep going
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Alexander knew that before he had light instead of darkness, he had to deserve light instead of darkness.
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Memory - that fiend, that cruel enemy of comfort.
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Alexander smoked and watched her from his tree stump bench. What are you doing? she would ask him. Nothing, he would reply. Nothing but growing my pain into madness.
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This is days and days and months and years and all the minutes in between, just you me.
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Ask yourself these three questions, Tatiana Metanova, and you will know who you are. Ask: What do believe in? What do you hope for? What do you love?
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I love you breathlessly, my amazing man.
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The power you have over someone who loves you is greater than any other power you'll ever have.
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Tania, there is so much still ahead of you. Be patient with life
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Dear God, Tatiana prayed in bed that night, turning to the wall and pulling the white sheet and the thin brown blanket over herself. If You are there somewhere, please teach me how to hide what I never knew how to show.
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There is a very definite Russian heart in me that never dies. I think you're born and you live your life with it and you die with it. I'm very much an American - my books tend to be about American things, but inside there's that sort of tortured, long-suffering, aching, constantly analysing Russian soul underneath the happy American exterior.
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