“And aren’t the most beautiful follies the ones linked to love?” — On Fire in the Blood by Irène Némirovsky; translated by Sandra Smith

Such madness! When you’re twenty, love is like a fever. It makes you almost delirious. When it’s over you can hardly remember how it happened. Fire in the blood, how quickly it burns itself out. Faced with this blaze of dreams and desires, I felt so old, so cold, so wise. Oh you -- Fire in [...]

marginalia || Suite Française, by Irène Némirovsky; translated by Sandra Smith

Oh, my God, so this is war . . . An enemy soldier never seemed to be alone -- one human being like any other -- but followed, crushed from all directions by innumerable ghosts, the missing and the dead. Speaking to him wasn't like speaking to a solitary man but to an invisible multitude; [...]