“I thought you’d be there waiting for me … What greeted me instead was the lingering stench of ashes and the empty sockets of our ruined home. Samuel Puterman on his return to Warsaw, 1945” — Keith Lowe Copy Share Image
A man's house burns down. The smoking wreckage represents only a ruined home that was dear through years of use and pleasant associations. By and by, as the days and weeks go on, first he misses this, then that, then… — Mark Twain Copy Share Image
