Willow

“They died like heroes,” a young fighter said gently.
“I don’t want them to be heroes; I want them alive. For whom will I
cook? For whom will I make soup? I want the hands that took plates from
me; I want the faces that smiled at me.”
― Aharon Appelfeld, To the Edge of Sorrow

“And then he put forth a theory as twisted as his bow tie: everyone has their own witness. Someone that we secretly want to convince, someone all of our actions are directed toward, someone we can’t stop secretly talking to. This witness, he added, is not the most obvious, is almost never your spouse or father or sister or lover, is often someone trivial, secondary to the normal course of life.”
― Andrés Barba, A Luminous Republic

“I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss. I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy. I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.”
― Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

“From describing the past, from the present which seized my hand in its
excited grasp, here I am, O future, now mounting the crupper of your horse.
What new pennants wilt thou unfurl before me from towers of cities not yet
founded? What rivers of devastation set flowing over castles and gardens I
have loved? What unforeseeable golden ages art thou preparing—ill-mastered, indomitable harbinger of treasures dearly paid for, my kingdom
to be conquered, the future . . .”
― Italo Calvino, Il cavaliere inesistente