random house trade paperbacks

Some experiences just need to be left in peace, they’re fragile as a cobweb and cannot tolerate either thoughts or words. You just have to be satisfied with letting them flicker in a corner of your awareness now and then.
—  Majgull Axelsson, from April Witch (Random House Trade Paperbacks, 2003)    
But I also knew that there was no going back. One can never go back; nothing and no one is ever the same. All that remained was an occasional evening of sadness, the sadness that we all feel because everything passes and because man is the only animal who knows it.
—  Erich Maria Remarque, from Shadows in Paradise (Random House Trade Paperbacks, 1998; first published 1971)

It was something in my blood; I hardly understood it myself, but I knew it would lead me to my destruction. I fought against it; I tried to get away from it, and sometimes I thought I was almost succeeding; but then came a memory, a dream, or, as now, an opportunity to set the wheels of destiny in motion, and that was the end of my illusions; then I knew that there was no escape for me.
—  Erich Maria Remarque, from Shadows in Paradise (Random House Trade Paperbacks, 1998; first published 1971)

It was a late February afternoon this time, and the sun was angling in over the yard. There were colors, even though it wouldn’t be spring for ages yet, or leaves on the trees. The black-and-white photograph was now a watercolor, with the fallen leaves like brown scabs on the grass.
—  Majgull Axelsson, from April Witch (Random House Trade Paperbacks, 2003)    
It is only in theory, she tells herself, that time is an illusion. To people, time is real, and therefore it is a signal of human madness to try to reach through it, for instance to try to console a twenty-years-younger edition of oneself.
—  Majgull Axelsson, from April Witch (Random House Trade Paperbacks, 2003)
I sat down by the swimming pool and suddenly I was overcome by an uncomfortable sadness. I had often been depressed in my life, but this was a feeling I had never known before. I sat very still, half hoping that some memory, some figure from the past, would emerge to explain it. I felt no pain or anguish. This was a serene, luminous, transparent sadness behind which a whole world became discernible.
—  Erich Maria Remarque, from Shadows in Paradise (Random House Trade Paperbacks, 1998; first published 1971)