Salt To The Sea Emilia Quotes

How foolish to believe we are more powerful than the sea or the sky.

You love stories, Emilia. Well, the trees hold hundreds of years of stories. Think of it, everything these trees have seen and felt. All of the secrets are inside of them.

My war had been so long, my winter so cold. But i had made it home. And for the first time in a long time, i was not afraid.

And there Emilia rests. She is safe. She is loved. Affectionately, Clara Christensen

But unlike Mama, I would not go to heaven. My secrets padlocked the gates. I'd be a torn kite stuck in the dead branches of a tree, unable to fly.

He was beautiful. The knight was beautiful, handsome when he smiled. He didn’t want anyone to see it. He didn’t want to acknowledge it himself. But for a brief moment, I saw him. The real man inside of him, not the one tortured by secrets and pain. And he was beautiful.

Emilia was still on the deck. I was holding her baby. Alfred was still on the deck. He was holding my pack.

On September 1, 1939, Germany invaded Poland from the west. On September 17, 1939, Russia invaded Poland from the east. I remembered these dates. Two warning nations gripped Poland like girls fighting over a doll. One held the leg, the other the arm. They pulled so hard that one day, the head popped off. The Nazis sent our people to ghettos and concentration camps. The Soviets sent our people to gulags and Siberia. I was nine years old when it started. People changed. Faces shrived and sunk, like baked apples. Neighbors spoke in whispers. I watched them play their games. I observed them when they weren’t looking. I learned. But how long could I play this game? A ploy of war both outside and inside. What would happen if I actually made it to the West? Would I be able to reveal myself as Emilia Stożek, a girl from Lwów? Would Germany be safe for me? Once the war ended, which side would be the right side for a Pole?

The German stared at me, a combination of fatigue and frustration. But I understood. His eyes on the potato said, Emilia, I'm hungry. The dried blood on his shirt said, Emilia, I'm injured. But the way he clutched his pack told me the most. Emilia, don't touch this.

In the water, Lucy feels herself bloom. Her throat opens and she is breathing: she can feel the water nourish her, the sweet sting of the salt. She stretches out her hands in front of her, marveling at the webbed flesh. Her blood beats like a drum. She kicks her legs, feels the power in them, the beauty. Ahead of her, Jess moves with the tide, her body at one with the sea, her hair a dark, drifting halo. Lucy sees the dance of the coral, throbbing pink and bright in time with the current. The silver dart of fish, the elegant shadow of a stingray. Above, she knows, the storm rages: ashore, trees bend and sway, the leaves crackle with lightning. The wind picks up the sand in great billows, the waves white. But here, all is peaceful, time slowed to the space between her heartbeats.