Hello friends. This post is a collection of quotes from the book - The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah. The Nightingale tells the stories of two sisters, separated by years and experience, by ideals, passion and circumstance, each embarking on her own dangerous path toward survival, love, and freedom in German-occupied, war-torn France.
If I have learned anything in this long life of mine, it is this: In love we find out who we want to be; in war we find out who we are.
Today’s young people want to know everything about everyone. They think talking about a problem will solve it. I come from a quieter generation. We understand the value of forgetting, the lure of reinvention.
As I approach the end of my years, I know that grief, like regret, settles into our DNA and remains forever a part of us.
My eyes fail me often - in the darkness, when headlights flash, when rain falls. It is unnerving, this new unreliability in my vision. Perhaps that’s why I find myself looking backward. The past has a clarity I can no longer see in the present.
Everything makes a statement, nothing speaks quite so loudly as cheapness.
Generally, Madame, the failing of a student to learn is the failing of the teacher to teach.
It is hard for a girl to lose her mother. I lost both parents though, didn’t I? One died, and the other turned his back on me. I can’t say which hurt more.
Why was it so easy for men in the world to do as they wanted and so difficult for women?
Magic, to be its best, must be unexpected. Don’t you agree?
You’re not alone, and you’re not the one in charge. Ask for help when you need it, and give help when you can. I think that is how we serve God - and each other and ourselves - in times as dark as these.
If love is a disease, I suppose I’m infected.
I know these modern seat belts are a good thing, but they make me feel claustrophobic. I belong to a generation that didn’t expect to be protected from every danger. I remember what it used to be like, back in the days when one was required to make smart choices. We knew the risks and took them anyway.
This war has put us all where we do not want to be.
This is the problem with you French. You fail to see the truth when it sits down beside you.
If times were different, I’d make you chase me. I would have made you jump through hoops to get me naked. But we don’t have time, do we?
The days of stopping to talk to friends on the street were gone. Now it was dangerous enough to simply make eye contact; friendly conversation had gone the way of butter and coffee and pork.
I am a mother and mothers don’t have the luxury of falling apart in front of their children, even when they are afraid, even when their children are adults.
He is such an American, this son of mine. He thinks one’s life can be distilled to a narrative that has a beginning and an end. He knows nothing about the kind of sacrifice that, once made, can never be either fully forgotten or fully borne.
A girl’s love for her father. Immutable. Unbearable but unbreakable.
Some stories don’t have happy endings. Even love stories. Maybe especially love stories.
What was the right thing for a mother to say to her nearly grown daughter about the ugliness in the world? How could she be honest?
Love has to be stronger than hate, or there is no future for us.
Millions of Jews were killed in this war, Madame. Millions. An entire generation is gone. We need to band together now, those few of us who are left; we need to rebuild.
Love. It was the beginning and end of everything, the foundation and the ceiling and the air in between.
I had forgotten how gently time passes in Paris. As lively as the city is, there’s a stillness to it, a peace that lures you in. In Paris, with a glass of wine in your hand, you can just be.
A Frenchwoman must have her secrets. And I will ... I’ll keep one secret.