“I have not survived against all odds. I have not lived to tell. I have not witnessed the extraordinary. This is my story.”

“I have taken to living by my wits.”

“I have my own story, and I love my story, but I know I can't tell it alone, not now. Because stories have centers, but they don't have edges. No boundaries.”

“I am a survivor. But I am not unique of the people that survived the great late war. We all have our stories to tell. But for most of us the hardened corners have soften with the passage of time.”

“But I'll admit I found this difficult. To Dad, I could tell, the story was over, but part of my problem as it relates to survival is that I have a problem recognizing endings - the right point to turn away.”

“...but I still think that one of the pleasantest of all emotions is to know that I, I with my brain and my hands, have nourished my beloved few, that I have concocted a stew or a story, a rarity or a plain dish, to sustain them truly against the hungers of the world.”