Clara

“He nods his head. ‘Is it the English this country belongs to now? I cannot remember. I know it is no longer the Turks.’ ‘No,’ we say; ‘the Turks have not been here since the war.’ ‘A war?’ says the old man, puzzled. ‘The war that was fought twenty years ago.’ He reflects. ‘I do not remember a war… Ah yes, about the time you mention, many ’asker went to and fro over the railway. That, then, was the war? We did not realize it was a war. It did not touch us here.’ Presently, after another long silence, he rises, bids us farewell politely, and is gone.”
― Agatha Christie Mallowan, Come, Tell Me How You Live

“For it seems to me that it is good to remember that there were such days and such places, and that at this very minute my little hill of marigolds is in bloom, and old men with white beards trudging behind their donkeys may not even know there is a war. ‘It does not touch us here…”
― Agatha Christie Mallowan, Come, Tell Me How You Live

“Instead of constantly asking ourselves the question of why we're here, maybe we should be savoring the simpler truth: We are here.”
― Mikki Brammer, The Collected Regrets of Clover

“How could a man who had so much always manage to believe he had so little?”
― Rachel Beanland, Florence Adler Swims Forever