“Later he would tell her that their story began at the Royal Hungarian Opera House, the night before he left for Paris on the Western Europe Express. The year was 1937; the month was September, the evening unseasonably cold. His… — Julie Orringer Copy Share Image
There is nothing wrong with you. God asks the most of those he loves best. — Julie Orringer Copy Share Image
“One and a half million Jewish men and women and children: How was anyone to understand a number like that? Andras knew it took… — Julie Orringer Copy Share Image
Why would a man not argue his own shameful culpability, why would he not crave responsibility for disaster, when the alternative was to feel… — Julie Orringer Copy Share Image
“Dear Madame Morgenstern, As absurd as it sounds, I've been thinking of you since we parted. I want to take you into my arms,… — Julie Orringer Copy Share Image
“He allowed himself to imagine for the first time that the rest of his life might not be shaped by the misery of his… — Julie Orringer Copy Share Image
It was like love, he thought, this crumbling chapel: it has been complicated, and therefore perfected, by what time had done to it — Julie Orringer Copy Share Image
I wondered how it could be that people could love God and hate one another. — Julie Orringer Copy Share Image
“I'm not named after the character,' she said. 'I'm named after the entire opera.” — Julie Orringer Copy Share Image
“Still, he could feel a fine cord stretched between them, a thin luminous fiber that ran from his chest all the way across the… — Julie Orringer Copy Share Image
