What will be when Tatte falls over and he needs a strong arm to help him up?

Would she understand? He doesn’t want to tell her if she will not understand

They were nothings. Nothings. Nothings. Just trodden-in-the-mud Jews. Just girls, dependent on fathers and brothers for their safety

“There are many things we don’t remember, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t inside us”

Mama is the mother, she’s meant to be the sun of their family. And she acts more like the moon, reflecting back others’ light

It is her own fault. If she would have taken charge of her family, of her cleanliness, then none of this would be happening

The driver faces him, trying to get inside, but Tatte doesn’t even notice, his eyes are on the carriage, on her and Emmy

She has disobeyed a cardinal rule. Never interrupt in the middle of a poem. A poem must be savored, from beginning to end

“I thought your little girl was going to come to school today,” Becca says. Polite but direct

"I remember thinking, Let this not be imprinted on his mind. Let not my child see his father burn”