The Nightingale

If I have learned anything in this long life of mine, it is this: in love we find out who we want to be; in war we find out who we are.

Men tell stories. Women get on with it. For us it was a shadow war. There were no parades for us when it was over, no medals or mentions in history books. We did what we had to during the war, and when it was over, we picked up the pieces and started our lives over.

But love has to be stronger than hate, or there is no future for us.

I always thought it was what I wanted: to be loved and admired. Now I think perhaps I'd like to be known.

Love. It was the beginning and end of everything, the foundation and the ceiling and the air in between.

Perhaps that’s why I find myself looking backward. The past has a clarity I can no longer see in the present.

Today’s young people want to know everything about everyone. They think talking about a problem will solve it. I come from a quieter generation. We understand the value of forgetting, the lure of reinvention.

I know that grief, like regret, settles into our DNA and remains forever a part of us.

I am a mother and mothers don’t have the luxury of falling apart in front of their children, even when they are afraid, even when their children are adults.

But when he looked at her—and she looked at him—they both knew that there was something worse than kissing the wrong person. It was wanting to.

Tante Isabelle says it’s better to be bold than meek. She says if you jump off a cliff at least you’ll fly before you fall.

You’re not alone, and you’re not the one in charge,” Mother said gently. “Ask for help when you need it, and give help when you can. I think that is how we serve God—and each other and ourselves—in times as dark as these.

It is easy to disappear when no one is looking at you.

In love we find out who we want to be, in war we find out who we are.

You are my sunlight in the dark and the ground beneath my feet.

It is not biology that determines fatherhood. It is love.

I had forgotten how gently time passes in Paris. As lively as the city is, there’s a stillness to it, a peace that lures you in. In Paris, with a glass of wine in your hand, you can just be.

I belong to a generation that didn't expect to be protected from every danger. We knew the risks and took them anyway.

How fragile life was, how fragile they were. Love. It was the beginning and end of everything, the foundation and the ceiling and the air in between. It didn’t matter that she was broken and ugly and sick. He loved her and she loved him, All her life she had waited -longed for - people to love her, but now she saw what she really mattered. She had known love, been blessed by it.

She wanted to bottle how safe she felt in this moment, so she could drink of it later when loneliness and fear left her parched.

He loves a version of me that is incomplete. I always thought it was what I wanted: to be loved and admired. Now I think perhaps I'd like to be known.

She was so tired of being strong.

A girl’s love for her father. Immutable. Unbearable but unbreakable.

If you’re going through hell, keep going.

know now what matters, and it is not what I have lost. It is my memories. Wounds heal. Love lasts.

She has a steel exterior, but it protects a candyfloss heart.

If I have learned anything in this long life of mine, it is this: In love we find out who we want to be; in war we find out who we are. Today’s young people want to know everything about everyone. They think talking about a problem will solve it. I come from a quieter generation. We understand the value of forgetting, the lure of reinvention.

If there’s one thing I never do, it’s stop.