Elena StB

“Probabil ca am facut din ceasurile petrecute la mare ceva asemanator cu ce face batranetea din copilarie. O realitate de dincolo de realitate.O viata dintr-o alta viata. Cat adevar o fi existand , in acest caz, in amintiri? Raspunsul nu poate fi decat unul singur: tot ce e sincer e adevarat. Chiar daca nu e.”
― Octavian Paler, Autoportret intr-o oglinda sparta (Romanian edition)

“Asa imi explic ca, pe langa intamplari disparate, imi amintesc, mai ales, stari, senzatii. Cred ca as putea sa insir cateva sute de mirosuri ale ierbii, in functie de ceasurile zilei, de ploaie, de anotimp, de pamant, de umbra, de inaltime, de gradul de umezeala, ori de uscaciune. As putea deosebi si acum, banuiesc, cu ochii inchisi murele oloage de murele crescute in tufe, fosnetul unui fag de fosnetul unui brad. In schimb multe din cele traite s-au estompat, lasand in urma goluri ca intr-o padure arsa pe jumatate. Aceasta descoperire ma obliga sa admit ca memoria mea seamana acum cu o oglinda sparta, care-mi restituie numai franturi de viata.”
― Octavian Paler, Autoportret intr-o oglinda sparta (Romanian edition)

“She had the sudden vivid realization that each choice, each split-second decision she had made until that moment, was what had made her life. She had shaped her life daily, the way a painter chooses pigments and lays down one brushstroke after another on the canvas. Whether she would die here, at the hands of the Russians, or be cut down in a senseless attempt to escape, she was comforted. She had, at least, been the artist of her own existence.”
― Jane Thynne, The Words I Never Wrote

“Home, she’d realized, wasn’t a place or a time or a person, though it could be any and all of those things: home was a feeling, a sense of being complete. The opposite of “home” wasn’t “away,” it was “lonely.” When someone said, “I want to go home,” what they really meant was that they didn’t want to feel lonely anymore.”
― Kate Morton, Homecoming