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You are my hand grenade, my artillery fire. You have replaced my heart with yourself.

Paullina Simons

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Paullina Simons
Age: 61
Born: 1963
Born: January 1
Translator
Writer
St. Petersburg
Fire
Hand
Hands
Heart
Grenade
Artillery
Replaced

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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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Courage, Alexander..... Courage, Tatiana
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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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And that's my point: all great things worth having require great sacrifice worth giving.
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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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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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Thank you, she whispered, for keeping yourself alive, soldier. You're welcome, he whispered back.
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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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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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I love you breathlessly, my amazing man.
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Love is, to be loved,” said Alexander, “in return.
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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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Love is when he is hungry and you feed him. Love is knowing when he is hungry.
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They had no past. They had no future. They just were.
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Memory - that fiend, that cruel enemy of comfort.
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Please stop looking at me, she thought, afraid of his eyes and terrified of her own heart.
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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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Tatiana had imagined her Alexander since she was a child, before she believed that someone like him was even possible. When she was a little girl, she dreamed of a fine world in which a good man walked its winding roads, perhaps somewhere in his wandering soul searching for her.
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When I was growing up, 'Anna Karenina' was one of my favourite books.
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