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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.

Paullina Simons

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Paullina Simons
Age: 61
Born: 1963
Born: January 1
Translator
Writer
St. Petersburg
Born
Comes
States
Optimist
Great
Precisely
Way
Tend
Think
Wasn
Thinking
American
Life
United

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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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Please stop looking at me, she thought, afraid of his eyes and terrified of her own heart.
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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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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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Love is, to be loved,” said Alexander, “in return.
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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.
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Courage, Alexan­der,” she whis­pered. “Courage, Ta­tiana.
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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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Memory - that fiend, that cruel enemy of comfort.
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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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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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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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They had no past. They had no future. They just were.
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Not bombs nor my broken heart can take away from me walking barefoot with you in jasmine June through the Field of Mars.
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But on that sunlit Sunday, Alexander knew nothing, thought nothing, imagined nothing. He forgot Dimitri and war and the Soviet Union and escape plans, and even America, and crossed the street for Tatiana Metanova.
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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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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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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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This is days and days and months and years and all the minutes in between, just you me.
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You are my hand grenade, my artillery fire. You have replaced my heart with yourself.
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