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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.

Paullina Simons

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Paullina Simons
Age: 61
Born: 1963
Born: January 1
Translator
Writer
St. Petersburg
Life
Pulling
Constantly
Forget
Means
Live
Mean
Writing
Work
Consumed

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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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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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When I was growing up, 'Anna Karenina' was one of my favourite books.
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They had no past. They had no future. They just were.
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Courage, Alexander..... Courage, Tatiana
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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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Ask yourself these three questions, Tatiana Metanova, and you will know who you are. Ask: what do you believe in? What do you hope for? But most important - ask: what do you love? ... I know who I am, she thought, taking his hand and turning to the altar. I am Tatiana. And I believe in, and hope for, and love Alexander for life.
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Memory - that fiend, that cruel enemy of comfort.
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You are my hand grenade, my artillery fire. You have replaced my heart with yourself.
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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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Courage, Alexan­der,” she whis­pered. “Courage, Ta­tiana.
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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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When Tatiana looked up from her ice cream, she saw a soldier staring at her from across the street.
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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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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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I'll take your breath any way you give it to me, Shura.
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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’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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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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Tania, last time in Morozovo, I let you go, but not this time. This time we live together or we die together.
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