Who remembers what to do? she asks. Who remembers what it means to be more than what this world believes of us?

Here is the truth he wants to ignore: that what is forged into memory tucks itself into bone and muscle. It will always be there and it will follow us to the grave.

Hope can never come from doing nothing.

Those who are dead aren’t worth dying for.

What is knows is this: there is no past, there is no “what happened”, there is only the moment that unfolds into the next, dragging everything with it, constantly renewing. Everything is happening at once.

Girls die from many causes: childbirth, illness, disease, men.

All was normal, Hailu knew without looking, he could understand the body’s silent language without the help of machinery. Years of practice had taught him how to decipher what most patients couldn’t articulate. These days were teaching him more: that the frailty of our bodies stems from the heart and travels to the brain. That what the body feels and thinks determines the way it stumbles and falls.

Maybe it’s the readers that make a book global.

A government of fighters won’t know how to lead, only create more war. You think bravery is measured in resistance.

The nature of love is to kill for it, or to die.