It was the seventh of November, 1918. The war was finally over. Maybe it would be declared a holiday and named War's End Day or something equally hopeful and wrong. Wars would break out again. Violence was part of human… — Claire Holden Rothman Copy Share Image
“In a single week I had lost the two most important men in my life. Yet the word “lost” was misleading. Neither had died… — Claire Holden Rothman Copy Share Image
It was the seventh of November, 1918. The war was finally over. Maybe it would be declared a holiday and named War's End Day… — Claire Holden Rothman Copy Share Image
“You must have learned by now, Agnes, that it's not possible to judge a life from the outside," she said. Her voice had an… — Claire Holden Rothman Copy Share Image
“Maybe a certain degree of deprivation was necessary to the experience of pleasure, just as suffering was an integral part of joy.” — Claire Holden Rothman Copy Share Image
“I had achieved my dream, but what had it brought? Wealth? I glanced at my dress, worn too many days now without washing, and… — Claire Holden Rothman Copy Share Image
“Bookishness, an unfortunate trait for a girl, especially one who is not nice to look at.” — Claire Holden Rothman Copy Share Image
“I looked briefly up from my notes. I was surrounded by hearts, sectioned and preserved. Hearts with holes. Hearts with leaking valves or thickened… — Claire Holden Rothman Copy Share Image
Happiness is a strange thing. It is something I tend to recognize only after it has passed, when I realize I miss it. — Claire Holden Rothman Copy Share Image
