Looking up at the stars and smoking in silence.

— Elizabeth Wein

Mary Queen of Scots had a little dog, a Skye terrier, that was devoted to her. Moments after Mary was beheaded, the people who were watching saw her skirts moving about, and they thought her headless body was trying to get itself to its feet. But the movement turned out to be her dog, which she had carried to the block with her, hidden in her skirts. Mary Stuart is supposed to have faced her execution with grace and courage (she wore a scarlet chemise to suggest she was being martyred), but I don’t think she could have been so brave if she had not secretly been holding tight to her Skye terrier, feeling his warm, silky fur against her trembling skin.

— Elizabeth Wein

Och, they suit you, Queenie! Promise me you'll wear them.

— Elizabeth Wein

Oh Julie, wouldn’t I know if you were dead? Wouldn’t I feel it happening, like a jolt of electricity to my heart?

— Elizabeth Wein

She gave a low and delighted chuckle. Her eyes were black as a moonless December night and reflected the electric lights like stars.

— Elizabeth Wein

Southampton's barrage balloons floated gleaming in the moonlight like the ghosts of elephants and hippos.

— Elizabeth Wein

That is a terrifically intimate thing, you know? Letting a stranger light your cigarette. Leaning forward so he can hold a flame to your lips. Pausing to breathe in before you pull back again.

— Elizabeth Wein

There’s glory and honor in being chosen. But not much room for free will

— Elizabeth Wein

These are just stories, you know. They are part of what we are, but they are not the real thing. All this year I’ve been thinking, What would White Raven do? And today, every time I thought it, I just didn’t care what White Raven would do. So today I’ve just done what I would do. I’ve just done what I think is right. I’m not going to stop making up stories. But I’m thinking now that they aren’t just for pretending to be someone else, someone more exciting, someone braver than you really are. They are not always jut a maze to get lost in so you can run away from life. They can just as well be maps to help you navigate.

— Elizabeth Wein

The wave of memory had submerged me for a whole minute, while I'd just sat staring and let it all come flooding back.

— Elizabeth Wein