63
" When older people get together there is something unflappable about them; you can sense they’ve tasted all the heavy, bitter, spicy food of life, extract its poison, and will now spend ten or fifteen years in a state of perfect equilibrium and enviable morality. They are happy with themselves. They have renounced the vain attempts of youth to adapt the world to their desires. They have failed and now, they can relax. In a few years they will once again be troubled by a great anxiety, but this time it will be a fear of death; it will have a strange effect on their tastes, it will make them indifferent, or eccentric, or moody, incomprehensible to their families, strangers to their children. But between the ages of forty and sixty they enjoy a precarious sense of tranquility. "
― Irène Némirovsky , Fire in the Blood
69
" Erau singuri - se credeau singuri - în casa mare și adormită. Nici o mărturisire, nici o sărutare, tăcere... Apoi, discuții înfierbântate și pasionate, în care vorbeau despre țările lor, despre familiile lor, despre muzică, despre cărți... Fericirea stranie pe care o simțeau... Graba de a descoperi fiecare inima celuilalt, o grabă de iubit care este deja o formă de dăruire, prima, dăruirea sufletului înainte de cea a trupului. <> Dar până atunci nici o vorbă de iubire. La ce bun? Sunt inutile când vocea răgușește, când gurile tremură, când se lasă tăcerile lungi... "
― Irène Némirovsky , Suite Française
72
" Every so often something came to life inside her, rebelled, demanded noise, movement, people. Life, my God, life! How long would this war go on? How many years would they have to live like this, in this dismal lethargy, bowed, docile, crushed like cattle in a storm? "
― Irène Némirovsky , Suite Française
76
" When I was a boy, playing at the beach, I remember a game I loved, which was an omen of my future life. I would dig a channel with high sides in the sand for the sea to fill. But when the water flooded the path I created for it with such violence that it destroyed everything in its way: my castles made of pebbles, my dikes of sand. It swept away everything, destroying it all, then disappeared, leaving me with a heavy heart, yet not daring to ask for pity, since the sea had only responded to my call. It's the same with love. You call out for it, you plan its course. The wave crashes into your heart, but it's so different from how you imagined it, so bitter and icy. "
― Irène Némirovsky