“Varya has had enough therapy to know that she’s telling herself stories. She knows her faith–that rituals have power, that thoughts can change outcomes or ward off misfortune–is a magic trick: fiction, perhaps, but necessary for survival. And yet, and yet: Is it a story if you believe it?”

“We’re survivors. There’s nothing we can’t do.”

“[I]t was in the pairs that the prisoners kept alive the semblance of humanity concluded Elmer Luchterhand, a sociologist at Yale who interviewed fifty-two concentration camp survivors shortly after liberation.Pairs stole food and clothing for each other, exchanged small gifts and planned for the future. If one member of a pair fainted from hunger in front of an SS officer, the other would prop him up.Survival . . . could only be a social achievement, not an individual accident, wrote Eugene Weinstock, a Belgian resistance fighter and Hungarian-born Jew who was sent to Buchenwald in 1943.Finally the death of one member of a pair often doomed the other. Women who knew Anne Frank in the Bergen-Belsen camp said that neither hunger nor typhus killed the young girl who would become the most famous diarist of the Nazi era. Rather, they said, she lost the will to live after the death of her sister, Margot.”

“We were playing a game against an unknown and unforgiving opponent. The stakes were terrible—play well or die—but we didn’t even know the ground rules.”

“Don’t you have a religion?” Dorolow asked Horza.”Yes,” he replied, not taking his eyes away from the screen on the wall above the end of the main mess-room table. “My survival.””So… your religion dies with you. How sad,” Dorolow said, looking back from Horza to the screen. The Changer let the remark pass.”

“That kind of imagination is why we’re not dead.”

“Sofya now understood the difference between life and existence: her life had come to an end, but her existence could drag on indefinitely. And however wretched and miserable this existence was, the thought of violent death still filled her with horror.”

“Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.”

“I wish I could recommend the experience of not being killed to everyone.”

“In a world where everyone struggles to survive whatever the cost, how could one judge those who decide to die?”

“You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his kneesExcerpt from To Kiss a King by Grace WillowsComing this summer to Amazon Kindle and paperback.”

“Listen up, Nic,” she said firmly, looking straight into his gray-blue eyes. “If you die on me out here, so help me I’ll hold seances and pester you. I won’t give you a moment’s peace in the hereafter,” she threatened in a fierce whisper. Gabrielle O’Hara, River of Dreams”