“The place in her, though, where her tears should have come from, was rough and dry. No, she didn't find any tears in herself to cry for the storyteller. The storyteller didn't exist anymore.” — Antonia Michaelis Copy Share Image
“That was how she saw the storyteller for the last time - in an absolutely silent world, in a staircase. He'd hit his target. When she fell into darkness, she knew that she would never see him again. She'd love… — Antonia Michaelis Copy Share Image
“It was a disaster … It was the most wonderful thing in the world.” — Antonia Michaelis Copy Share Image
“The words that I will have to find for that explanation will be sharp and they will hurt, much worse than the thorns of… — Antonia Michaelis Copy Share Image
“You can't change things. That's life. Poor stays poor, rich says rich, and those two, they will never meet.” — Antonia Michaelis Copy Share Image
“Anna took his hand to gauge the swelling. 'Let's at least put something cold around it. Frozen peas work pretty well.' 'Do I have… — Antonia Michaelis Copy Share Image
“My child, I know you're not a child But I still see you running wild Between those flowering trees. Your sparkling dreams, your silver… — Antonia Michaelis Copy Share Image
“Abel lifted her up - another gesture from former times, from when she'd been smaller - and carried her to the bathroom to find… — Antonia Michaelis Copy Share Image
“The Rajah's handsome eunuch never guessed that she was telling him the tale of her own life.” — Antonia Michaelis Copy Share Image
“Just a tiny little pain, Three days of heavy rain, Three days of sunlight, Everything will be alright, Just a tiny little pain.” — Antonia Michaelis Copy Share Image
“Nothing was perfect, but everything was all right. The light was never just blue.” — Antonia Michaelis Copy Share Image
“I don't know what happened between the two of you. I don't know if it can be forgiven. The hardest thing always is to… — Antonia Michaelis Copy Share Image
“Anna watched as Abel walked across the empty schoolyard, she wondered whether there was a limit to desolation or whether it grew endlessly, infinitely.… — Antonia Michaelis Copy Share Image
