Keoko Quotes

A mistake made with good in your heart is still a mistake, but it is one for which you must forgive yourself.

How could an alphabet—letters that didn't even mean anything by themselves—be important? But it was important. Our stories, our names, our alphabet. Even Uncle's newspaper. It was all about words. If words weren't important, they wouldn't try so hard to take them away.

You burn the paper, but not the words. You silence the words, but not the thoughts. You kill the thoughts only if you kill the man. And you will find that his thoughts rise again in the minds of others - twice as strong as before.

It was all about words. If words weren't important, they wouldn't try so hard to take them away.

I don’t feel like playing anymore—all because of that stupid announcement. “Express your gratitude,” they’d said. What they take: our rice, our language, our names. What they give: little rubber balls. I can’t feel grateful about such a bad deal.

I always thought it was a shame . . . that we didn’t keep those things safe somehow.

We still spoke Korean at home, but on the streets we always had to speak Japanese.

I remember Uncle’s eyes glittering with pain and anger. I remember something else, too. How I’d felt hearing about Abuji, the way he’d done nothing to help. Back then I couldn’t understand it. Why hadn’t he done something? Those soldiers tonight, tearing apart our house. And me? I’d stood there, frozen. I hadn’t done anything—I hadn’t even said anything. And I’m three years older than Abuji was then. I know now. What could he have done? What could any of us do?

You burn the paper but not the words. You silence the words but not the thoughts. You kill the thoughts only if you kill the man. And you will find that his thoughts rise again in the minds of others—twice as strong as before!

Something bad was about to happen. Uncle had been expecting it.

The Japanese made a lot of new laws. One of the laws was that no Korean could be the boss of anything.

Kaneyama,