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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

Paullina Simons

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Paullina Simons
Age: 61
Born: 1963
Born: January 1
Translator
Writer
St. Petersburg
Keep
Become
Sometimes
Going
Burned
Much
Pick
Things
Somehow
Picks
Carry

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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 tend to be a great optimist when it comes to the United States and the American way of life, I think precisely because I wasn't born into it.
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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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Courage, Alexan­der,” she whis­pered. “Courage, Ta­tiana.
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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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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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We can’t forget that I owe you my life.” She gazed at him. “We can’t forget that I belong to you.” “I like that sound of that,” Alexander said, hugging her tighter.
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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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Tania, there is so much still ahead of you. Be patient with life
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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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When I was growing up, 'Anna Karenina' was one of my favourite books.
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Will you remember that? Anywhere you are, if you can look up and find Perseus in the sky, find that smile, and hear the galactic wind whisper your name, you'll know that it's me, calling for you... calling you back to Lazarevo. (Alexander)
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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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You have to keep your audience in your mind if you're writing stuff that you know nobody's going to care about then you should rethink what you're doing!
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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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This is days and days and months and years and all the minutes in between, just you me.
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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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And that's my point: all great things worth having require great sacrifice worth giving.
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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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