Kimberly Brubaker Bradley Quotes

It had been awful, but I hadn't quit. I had persisted. In battle I had won.

I don't know what to say," she said, after a pause. "I don't want to tell you a lie, and I don't know the truth." It was maybe the most honest thing anyone had ever said to me.

I wanted to say a lot of things, but, as usual, I didn't have the words for the thoughts inside my head.

You can know things all you like, and someday you might believe them.

Love isn't as rare as you think it is...You can love all sorts of people, in all sorts of ways. Nor is love in any way dangerous.

What you know in your head and what you say out loud are not always the same.

If I started letting myself feel afraid I would never be able to stop.

What's right and what's permitted are sometimes different things.

Sometimes you've got a story you need to find the courage to tell.

You can know things all you like, but that doesn’t mean you believe them.

I don't want to just survive

Then I did what I should have done to start with. I taught myself to walk.

After that it was easy. It was the most impossible thing I’d ever done, but it was also easy. I held on to Jamie, and I kept moving forward.

It was horrible how the hardest things could be the truth.

You're perfectly capable of learning. You mustn't listen to people who don't know you. Listen to what you know, yourself.

People used to draw dragons on the edges of old maps. When the world hadn't been fully explored, mapmakers imagined dragons living at the far ends.

Victory,' she said, 'means peace.

It was us, I thought. Jamie and me. We had fallen down a rabbit hole, fallen into Susan’s house, and nothing made sense, not at all, not anymore.

Sourpuss,” she said, laughing. “Would it kill you to be grateful?” Maybe. Who knew?

Fear and what you did with it were two separate things.

Keep going,” Susan said. “The only way out of this is straight through.

Jamie sings like a squirrel.

This is to remind me of the best day of my life." She looks down at me. For a wonder, she smiles back. "When was that?" she asks. "Tomorrow," I say.

My bad foot’s a long way from my brain.

But what do I do with them?" Miss Smith said "I've never been around children." "Feed them, bathe them, make sure they get plenty of sleep," the doctor said. "They're no more diffi cult than puppies, really." He grinned

And even if it felt like Mam hated me, she had to love me, didn’t she? She had to love me, because she was my mam, and Susan was just somebody who got stuck taking care of Jamie and me because of the war.

I shrugged. “There’s a war on.” “Yes,” she said, “and you’re winning it.

I kept traveling down the road. And everywhere it was the same. What was my name, who were my people? What was I supposed to say? That my father is the president, and my mother is his slave?

Somehow Christmas was making me feel jumpy inside. All this talk about being together and being happy and celebrating - it felt threatening. Like I shouldn't be part of it. Like I wasn't allowed. And Susan wanted me to be happy, which was scarier still.

But now, thinking back, it seemed a little silly to be unhappy about a dress when the pilots were dead. If I had it to do over, I would at least have learned their names.

I wanted to talk to her when she hadn’t just been hit on the head. I wanted to know if she’d still like me when she wasn’t woozy.

I’ve learned that some things are almost impossible to talk about because they’re things no one wants to know. ■ ■ ■ Not even me.

One step, I thought. One step at a time.

I don’t want to have to feel grateful,” I said. Susan smiled. “I understand,” she said. “Do it anyhow.

Broken bones take a long time to heal. Why shouldn't brains?

You can know things all you like, but that doesn't mean you believe them.

After that, with help from Jamie, I left Susan little notes every day. Susan is a big frog. (That one made Jamie giggle.)

You can know all the things you like, but that does not mean you believe them.

I shook my head. Bombs fell from the sky. Boys fell from trees. Anything might happen. Anytime.

I was glad, you know, to read the book. To know it didn’t only happen to me.

Worse than giant, fire-breathing lizards that could fly? Sounded like we should send dragons after Hitler.

Sometimes, Ada,” she said, “I get very tired of you setting the example for us all.

I stared at the paper. I said, “This isn’t reading. This is drawing.” “Writing,” she corrected. “It’s like buttons and hems. You’ve got to learn those before you can sew on the machine. You’ve got to know your letters before you can read.” I supposed so, but it was boring. When I said so she got up again and wrote something along the bottom of the paper. “What’s that?” I asked. “‘Ada is a curmudgeon,’” she replied. “Ada is a curmudgeon,” I copied at the end of my alphabet. It pleased me. After

I told you, nobody goes into foster care for good reasons. Foster care might be better than anything you’ve ever had in your life so far, and it will still never be as good as what you should have had. If the family you were born into was what it should have been.

When Jamie had to use the toilet, soldiers passed him over their heads to the one at the end of the car, and back again when he was done.

crippled. He’d been better as soon as his hooves were trimmed.

I didn’t know what to do. Susan was temporary. My foot was permanent.

She was wrong.” I shrugged. “I can say that,” I said. “It’s harder to believe it.

wanted Mam to be like Susan. I didn’t really trust Susan not to be like Mam.

When we’d settled ourselves on the bed in Jamie’s room, he said quietly, “Mam was angry at everything too.” My head snapped up. “Because of me,” I said. “Because of my foot.

Potato picking was tedious, dirty, exhausting, and cold. I rather liked it.

Mam had never been anything but angry. Even when she smiled, she always stayed angry inside. No sadness, no joy. Just anger.

I love you,” I whispered. I buried my head against Susan’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before.” “Don’t be sorry,” she whispered back. “I know you love me. You know I love you too.” • •

I stored this information in my head in the bulging file titled "Things I Wished I Didn't Know." It included what it felt like to walk on a clubfoot for ten years, and what it sounded like to have your mother say she never wanted to see you again.

Lady Thorton never went to boarding school. She seems to imagine it as a sort of jolly holiday.” Susan had gone to boarding school. “Was it?” “No,” Susan said. “Mind you, I didn’t hate it. But sometimes being in a group of girls is just as lonely as being alone.

But I’m used to him not being around, especially when I’m at school. I mostly didn’t live with him. So I don’t actually miss him even though I’m sorry that he’s dead. Sometimes I realize that for a few hours I’ve forgotten all about him. I think I miss the idea of him more than miss his real self. Does that make me a bad person? I’m afraid it does.

simple.

I’m tired of feeling ashamed. About my foot.

Since Jonathan’s death,

Maggie ignored this. “I’ll be glad to come to the party. Home’s dreadful, you can’t imagine. I’ve never liked school, but now home’s worse. Mum’s in a funk all the time.” Every

My own ignorance shames me.

What if he’d had to be put down?

Christmas trees are a nice tradition. Green in the midst of winter, light in the midst of darkness—it’s all metaphors for God.

When we’d settled ourselves on the bed in Jamie’s room, he said quietly, “Mam was angry at everything too.

I’ll come,” she said softly. “I will. It would be good to be among family again.

You can know all the things you like, but that doesn´t mean you believe them

Saying something stupid doesn't make you stupid," Susan said. " Luckily for all of us.

I shrugged. “I can say that,” I said. “It’s harder to believe it.

expression, of mingled anger and disinterest, didn’t change. “Hello,” I said. She scowled. “Who’re you?” She didn’t recognize me. I dismounted Butter, landing carefully on my good left foot. I untied my crutches from the back of the saddle and swung myself forward, over the garden wall. “I’m Ada,” I said. Her expression turned to outrage as she realized who I was. “What the ’ell’s this?” she said. “Just who do you think

I wasn’t relaxed. I was wearing the green dress. I’d put it on when I came in from seeing Butter, because I knew it would please Susan, and it did. She brushed my hair and let it hang loose, tying my new green ribbon around my head. “That’s an Alice ribbon,” she said. “The girl in your book, Alice, she wears her hair like that.” I felt like an imposter. It was worse than when I tried to talk like Maggie. Here I was, looking like Maggie. Looking like a shiny bright girl with hair ribbons. Looking like a girl with a family that loved her.

Miss Ellen sighed. She tucked her hair behind her ear. She had red hair, like Master Jefferson. "But that's nonsensical," she said. "If you have money, there's no reason why anyone should care what you buy. It shouldn't be anyone's business but your own." She glared at Maddy. Maddy knew what she meant, but understood his mama's side too. "If I tried to buy a gun," he said. "Oh, a gun," said Miss Ellen. "A book is not a gun." "No," Maddy said. "A book is much more dangerous." Miss Ellen stared at him. "Somebody could take a gun away from me," Maddy said. "I learn what's in a book, it's mine for keeps.

That’s your map of the past. What’s in the map of your future?” I stared at her. “What do you want?” she persisted. I had no idea. When I’d first been evacuated I’d wanted to be like the girl riding the pony, racing the train. Now I was. Parts of me were still jumbled—but maybe that girl had been jumbled too. I’d only seen her from the outside.

You feel safer in your bedroom, but you’re actually much safer in the shelter.” It didn’t matter how I felt. She made me go into the shelter every time the sirens wailed. Men came and removed all the signposts from the roads around the village, so that when Hitler invaded he wouldn’t know where he was. When he invaded, we were to bury our radio. Jamie had already dug a hole for it in the garden. When Hitler invaded we were to say nothing, do nothing to help the enemy. If he invaded while I was out riding, I was to return home at once, as fast as possible by the shortest route. I’d know it was an invasion, not an air raid, because all the church bells would ring. “What if the Germans take Butter?” I asked Susan. “They won’t,” she said, but I was sure she was lying. “Bloody huns,” Fred muttered, when I went to help with chores. “They come here, I’ll stab ’em with a pitchfork, I will.” Fred was not happy. The riding horses, the Thortons’ fine hunters, were all out to grass, and the grass was good, but the hayfields had been turned over to wheat and Fred didn’t know how he’d feed the horses through the winter. Plus the Land Girls staying in the loft annoyed him. “Work twelve hours a day, then go out dancing,” he said. “Bunch of lightfoots. In my day girls didn’t act like that.” I thought the Land Girls seemed friendly, but I knew better than to say so to Fred. You could get used to anything. After a few weeks, I didn’t panic when I went into the shelter. I quit worrying about the invasion. I put Jamie up behind me on Butter

There,” she said, smiling, her eyes soft and warm. “It’s perfect. Ada. You’re beautiful.” She was lying. She was lying, and I couldn’t bear it. I heard Mam’s voice shrieking in my head. “You ugly piece of rubbish! Filth and trash! No one wants you, with that ugly foot!” My hands started to shake. Rubbish. Filth. Trash. I could wear Maggie’s discards, or plain clothes from the shops, but not this, not this beautiful dress. I could listen to Susan say she never wanted children all day long. I couldn’t bear to hear her call me beautiful. “What’s the matter?” Susan asked, perplexed. “It’s a Christmas present. I made it for you. Bottle green velvet, just like I said.” Bottle green velvet. “I can’t wear this,” I said. I pulled at the bodice, fumbling for the buttons. “I can’t wear it. I can’t.” “Ada.” Susan grabbed my hands. She pulled me to the sofa and set me down hard beside her, still restraining me. “Ada. What would you say to Jamie, if I gave him something nice and he said he couldn’t have it? Think. What would you say?” Tears were running down my face now. I started to panic. I fought Susan’s grasp. “I’m not Jamie!” I said. “I’m different, I’ve got the ugly foot, I’m—” My throat closed over the word rubbish.

The officer stopped his car and got out. ‘Papers, please,’ he said. ‘Really?’ said the man, in perfect English with the accent Lady Thorton used. ‘Why ever for?’ ‘Routine,’ the officer said. The man raised his eyebrow as if it were all a joke, but reached into his pocket readily enough. He pulled his identity card out of a battered leather wallet. ‘I’m just on a bit of a walking holiday,’ he said, indicating the rucksack on his back. ‘My ration card’s in there if you want me to fish it out.’ He could not sound more English. He could not look more English. And yet— ‘Sir,’ I said to the officer. He came over to the window on the passenger side, and leaned in. ‘I’m sorry, miss,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘but I think you’ve—’ I said, ‘His trouser cuffs are wet. And they’re full of sand.’ No one went on the beaches anymore. No one ever. It wasn’t allowed. The officer’s smile disappeared.

Miss Smith gave him a look that made him shut his mouth, except he begged her pardon first.

How could a real person kill an imaginary animal?

Davonte doesn’t know my whole story, but she knows an awful lot of it. Especially given all that’s happened lately.

Dr. Penny said, “Della, to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you this time?

On Pig Day,

It was nearly time for Ruth’s examinations.

You’re eleven years old,” Susan said. “You get to be the child now, Ada, for once in your life. I will be the adult.” She paused. “You really don’t want that doll, do you?” I didn’t say anything right away. Coals crackled in the grate. Jamie rubbed Bovril’s belly, and the cat stretched long, hooking his claws into the rug. “It’s all right if you don’t,” Susan said. “I needed a doll a long time ago,” I said.

Posh, this place,

She was not a nice person, but she cleaned up the floor. She was not a nice person, but she bandaged my foot in a white piece of cloth, and gave us two of her own clean shirts to wear.

Miss Smith was not a nice person, but the bed she put us in was soft and clean, with smooth thin blankets and warm thicker ones.

The second day was worse. The second day my good foot and leg hurt too.

How’s Billy?” Billy, Stephen’s little brother, was Jamie’s best friend. Stephen swallowed. He started to speak. He choked, swallowed, and tried again. He tried two or three times before his mouth would make words. Then he said, “Dead.

I asked, “Can’t we at least put Jonathan’s name on a stone?” Jonathan had been part of the village; he had gone to the church. He should be remembered there. Mr. Collins said, “I’m sure we will in time.” He took my hand and led me down the steps, along the path to the center of the graveyard, to a tall stone column engraved with a long list of names. “These are the village boys who perished in the First World War,” he said. “None of their bodies were sent home. The soldiers from the first war were all buried where they died.” Twenty-three names. I counted. And two toward the top: Corydon Collins Jr. and Charles Collins. I touched the names, then looked at Mr. Collins. “Yes,” the vicar said. “Those were my sons. Lovely boys, both of them.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Lovely, lovely boys.” I hated war. •

blue-haired old woman

had to love me, because she was my mam, and Susan was just somebody who got

I wanted Mam to be like Susan.

I was standing on two feet, without crutches, wearing two shoes. I could read and I could sing. I had walked to church even though it was a long way. I needed to remember that. I tried to force myself to feel happy, but underneath the happiness I felt prickly, like my skin was stretched too tight all over. I might not be a cripple, but I didn’t know who I was.

We emerged onto the ruined street, where gaps showed in the rows of buildings like missing teeth

I had so much. I felt so sad.

The Nazis are trying to control what we can read." Madame Marcelle shook her head. "It's much worse than that," she said. "Controlling the newspaper makes sense in an occupied land. Novels and works of literature are art in the same way that songs are art. It's wrong to burn them. It's wrong to ban them.

You mustn’t listen to people who don’t know you. Listen to what you know, yourself.

I wouldn’t go near the house.” Lady Thorton sniffed. “Absolutely not.

Ada is a curmudgeon,’’ she replied. ‘Ada is a curmudgeon,’ I copied at the end of my alphabet. It pleased me.

She stopped walking and turned to face me. “I don’t know what to say,” she said, after a pause. “I don’t want to tell you a lie, and I don’t know the truth.” It was maybe the most honest thing anyone had ever said to me.

She held Jamie’s hand but didn’t try to take mine. “Both of you. Your manners were very nice.