William Kimball

“Dear sister—all other love is merely a reflection of the heavens in the puddles of a muddy road. You will become sullied too if you allow yourself to sink into it. But if you always remember that it’s a reflection of the light from that other home, then you will rejoice at its beauty and take good care that you do not destroy it by churning up the mire at the bottom.”
― Sigrid Undset, Kristin Lavransdatter

“It was true that all this time she had remembered, year after year, every wound he had ever caused her—even though she had always known that he never wounded her the way a grown person intends harm to another, but rather the way a child strikes out playfully at his companion. Each time he offended her, she had tended to the memory the way one tends to a venomous sore. And with each humiliation he brought upon himself by acting on any impulse he might have—it struck her like the lash of a whip against her flesh, causing a suppurating wound. It wasn’t true that she willfully or deliberately harbored ill feelings toward her husband; she knew she wasn’t usually narrow-minded, but with him she was.”
― Sigrid Undset, Kristin Lavransdatter

“I never had the idea that I was or could be better than any other pilot in the air at this moment.' (Words of Erich Hartmann)”
― Raymond F. Toliver, The Blond Knight of Germany: A biography of Erich Hartmann

“I learned to appreciate the wide range of chores. Our wives must do when we men go away to work. I would go shopping in the village and set a nice table, and at night I would wait at the door for Usch to come home. This period confirmed for me what I firmly believe to be the truth—that without Usch I am nothing.”
― Raymond F. Toliver, The Blond Knight of Germany: A biography of Erich Hartmann