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And that's my point: all great things worth having require great sacrifice worth giving.

Paullina Simons

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Paullina Simons
Age: 61
Born: 1963
Born: January 1
Translator
Writer
St. Petersburg
Things
Require
Sacrifice
Worth
Point
Giving
Great

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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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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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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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The power you have over someone who loves you is greater than any other power you'll ever have.
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Whenever you're unsure of yourself, whenever you're in doubt, ask yourself three questions. What do you believe in? What do you hope for? but most important, ask yourself, what do you love?
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Awash in a flood of hostility and despair, they battled and railed and shattered their bodies on one another, unable to find one strand, one sobering swallow of solace.
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I love you. I'm blind for you, wild for you. Sick with you. I told you that our first night together when I asked you to marry me, I am telling you now. Everything that's happened to us, everything, is because I crossed the street for you. I worship you. You know that through and through.
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He stared at her fists and at her face and said with upset incredulity, You promised me you would forgive me- Forgive you,Tatiana hissed through her teeth, tears streaming down her face, for your brave and indifferent face, Alexander! She groaned in pain. Not for your brave and indifferent heart.
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I'll take your breath any way you give it to me, Shura.
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We’ll meet again in Lvov, my love and I…” Tatiana hums, eating her ice cream, in our Leningrad, in jasmine June, near Fontanka, the Neva, the Summer Garden, where we are forever young.
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We thought the hard part was over—but we were wrong. Living is the hardest part. Figuring out how to live your life when you’re all busted up inside and out—there is nothing harder.
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When Tatiana looked up from her ice cream, she saw a soldier staring at her from across the street.
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I was blinded by stupidity for a brief moment in our life, for a flicker in the eternity in which you and I live, and I stumbled.
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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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When I was growing up, 'Anna Karenina' was one of my favourite books.
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Love is when he is hungry and you feed him. Love is knowing when he is hungry.
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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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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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