She whispered, 'C'etait la Verite?' Was that Verity? Or perhaps she just meant, Was that the truth? Was it true? Did any of it really happen? Were the last three hours real? 'Yes,' I whispered back. 'Oui. C'etait la verite. — Elizabeth Wein Copy Share Image
But I have told the truth. Isn't that ironic? They sent me because I am so good at telling lies. But I have told the truth. — Elizabeth Wein Copy Share Image
“It was wonderful flirting with him, all the razor-edged literary banter, like Beatrice and Benedick in Much Ado About Nothing. A battle of wit,… — Elizabeth Wein Copy Share Image
“She was never so petty. She did not dabble with minnows at the surface when there were thirty-pound salmon swimming deeper down.” — Elizabeth Wein Copy Share Image
“I, of course, took the opportunity to interpose with pigheaded Wallace pride, 'I am not English, you ignorant Jerry bastard, I am a SCOT.” — Elizabeth Wein Copy Share Image
“Which would you rather have––an unlimited supply of Chanel No. 5, or freedom?” — Elizabeth Wein Copy Share Image
“And this, even more wonderful and mysterious, is also true: when I read it, when I read what Julie's written, she is instantly alive… — Elizabeth Wein Copy Share Image
I tend not to attempt to describe pain. I don't feel I can comprehend or re-create the personal suffering of others, so I simply… — Elizabeth Wein Copy Share Image
“She gave a low and delighted chuckle. Her eyes were black as a moonless December night and reflected the electric lights like stars.” — Elizabeth Wein Copy Share Image
