Zwaan Quotes

Dit is alles wat wij weten: moeder en zoon herenigd - je ziet in je gedachten hoe een witte zwaan wordt gewiegd door een vijver en je vraagt: zou die vogel de rouw kennen van het water en zou het water weten wie het wiegt.

De liefde tussen mensen loopt zelden synchroon. Mensen vinden elkaar op verkeerde momenten, overtreden wetten en regels om de feiten alsnog naar hun hand te zetten, bagatelliseren de gevolgen van ontrouw, ontkennen de overmijdelijke pijn waarmee afscheid gepaard gaat.

Tussen ijsschotsen op de vijver dreef een enkele zwaan, arm in arm met haar spiegelbeeld.

My dad stopped the car opposite their home and told me to stay put, but I was so impatient that I jumped out anyway and smacked into a bicyclist.

Later I learned that they were carrying paratroopers to occupy airfields and bridges toward the west of the country so that the attack of the German army would not be slowed down.

It was a lot more dangerous to expose several thousands of people to the dangers of traveling on exposed roads, with German fighter planes overhead strafing everything that moved

De Zwaan presenteert de jachtschotel met smaak aan Bernhard.

The book's value is that Zwaan lived these stories. Those interested in this troubled time in world history will appreciate the author's perspective.

Dad said, Let me tell you something. When I was a prisoner in Amersfoort, I saw with my own eyes your nice little man beating several people to death.

It was the sound that wake me up — a continuous droning that did not let up.

Why did they attack a boat full of children going home of school? There were even red crosses painted all over it.

In this descriptive and engaging memoir, Johan Zwaan details a Dutch boyhood during the globe's most trying period: World War II.

The girl sitting at the desk before me had gorgeous blond hair. It was long and was hanging over my desk. It was heavily populated with little moving critters, lice, and they were falling on my desk. I had great fun picking them up with my pen and drowning them in the inkwell.

The pilot was killed when his parachute did not open.

Dad said, “Let me tell you something. When I was a prisoner in Amersfoort, I saw with my own eyes your nice little man beating several people to death.

I did not know any English, and being around eight years old, I probably would not have understood the meaning of his words anyway. But there was something very reassuring about his sonorous voice, a conviction that the bad times would pass and that all would be well. This was about seventy-five years ago, and it has stayed with me for all that time.

I can't stop thinking about it today with a sense of awe and gratefulness.