Leonore Siwiec

“One evening, when we were already resting on the floor of our hut, dead tired, soup bowls in hand, a fellow prisoner rushed in and asked us to run out to the assembly grounds and see the wonderful sunset. Standing outside we saw sinister clouds glowing in the west and the whole sky alive with clouds of ever-changing shapes and colors, from steel blue to blood red. The desolate grey mud huts provided a sharp contrast, while the puddles on the muddy ground reflected the glowing sky. Then, after minutes of moving silence, one prisoner said to another, "How beautiful the world could be...”
― Viktor E. Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning

“I'm crying because out there he's gone, but he's not gone inside me.”
― Bill Watterson

“Hello, Halberstam," Owen says, walking by.
Hello, Owen," I say, admiring the way he's styled and slicked back his hair, with a part so even and sharp it... devastates me and I make a mental note to ask him where he purchases his hair-care products, which kind of mousse he uses, my final guesses after mulling over the possibilities being Ten-X.”
― Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho

“Finally there is nothing here for death to take away.”
― Charles Bukowski, What Matters Most is How Well You Walk Through the Fire