Magda Szabó

Don’t ask what I was feeling, but let this teach you not to love anyone to death because you’ll suffer for it, if not sooner then later.

Don’t you think it’s a function of art to create the illusion of reality?”
“Art,” she repeated bitterly. “If that’s what you were — artists — then everything would be real

. She had denied nothing, nor had she pretended not to understand the thrust of the question. As strange as the feeling was, they could not shake off the impression that she was playing with them, but playing the way an adult does when joining in with the children

Be strong, she seemed to hear a voice telling her from that unknown place—possibly from outside the country. Be strong, my dearest love in all the world. Be strong, so that I too will have the strength for what I must do. Show your strength not by being stubborn and recalcitrant, by protesting and complaining, or making unrealistic plans, my child, but by mastering yourself and listening to wise counsels, so that those I have entrusted you to will be able to help you. If you simply dissolve in tears or break down under pressure like a crushed pearl, then we shall have loved one another in vain. And don’t be sad. Don’t let it spoil your appetite. Be brave and be happy! Perhaps we shall see one another again, so please do nothing to tarnish the joy of that meeting, and give me strength by allowing me to know that I can trust you!