Character: Rosanna McNulty

It is on the beaches of this world that it is so desperately seen how honorable it is to have children. After all, it is sheer torture for old maids and childless couples to see all these angels and imps swarming in the water near the shore.

Yes, seventeen-eighteen-year-old girls know how to live and love this life, just give us free rein.

The most desperate, the most wrong spectacle in the world: motherhood, doomed to defeat.

I was old enough to know that sometimes people say one thing but have something else on their mind, and then their words still carry the reflection of those thoughts.

I knew that these three had seen many horrors, and those who saw horrors themselves can create them, because such are the laws of life and war.

In conversation, we feel a strange responsibility for the interlocutor and offer answers as a consolation. We are poor people!

It’s strange, this is what came to my mind: a person who doesn’t nurture his stories while he lives, so that they will survive him later, will most likely be lost not only for the whole story, but also for the family to whom he could pass them on. Of course, such is the fate of the majority, when whole lives - even the most striking and remarkable - shrink to the gloomy blackened inscriptions on a dried family tree: half a date and an interrogative dangling nearby