J.C.

“Outside, the colonel was cheering, delighted by his first encounter with warfare, Inside, two Monuments Men bent over a four-hundered-year-old painting [by Peter Breughel the Elder] in the faint light of a newly arrived lamp. The first was kneeling on the ground, studying its surface like an archeologist in an Egyptian tomb or a medic with a wounded man. The second hunched behind him, concentrating on his notes. The soldiers, tired and dirty, huddled around them like the shepherds at the manger, staring silently at a painting of expressive faces and peasant villagers and at the two adult men in soldiers' garb fussing over every square centimeter of its surface.”
― Robert M Edsel, The Monuments Men: Allied Heroes, Nazi Thieves, and the Greatest Treasure Hunt in History

“There is not one type of German... There are many who were never Nazis, but remained silent out of fear. Nor is there one type of Nazi. There are those who went along to survive, or for career advancement, or out of a sheepish devotion to the status quo. Then there are the hardcases, the true believers. It is possible we will find what we are looking for only when the last true believer is dead.

- Lincoln Kirstien”
― Robert M Edsel, The Monuments Men: Allied Heroes, Nazi Thieves, and the Greatest Treasure Hunt in History

“He told me he's seeing someone. When this prompted no response, he added: Apparently she's thirty-six. She's separated from her husband

From the living room, a cackle of laughter. And her voice saying: You never told me your brother was such a legend.”
― Sally Rooney, Intermezzo

“An hour past dawn, the Charger came down the hill, followed by a boxy Jeep with oversize tires and a Chevy half-ton truck.

'That's them,' said Ornazian

'The New Klansmen.'

'More like wannabe Nazis.'

'What's the difference?'

'Their playbook is Mein Kampf. They carved the number fourteen into the Weitzmans' dining-room table.'

'And that means what?'

'Fourteen words. The white-nationalist slogan. I am a coward and a loser and I blame my failure on other people.'

Ward counted on his fingers. 'That's fifteen words.'

'See? These guys could fuck up a wet dream. Let's go to their house.”
― George P. Pelecanos, The Man Who Came Uptown