Quotes from Loung Ung

Voting is not only our right, it is our power. When we vote, we take back our power to choose, to speak up, and to stand with those who support us and each other.

I am six years old and instead of celebrating with birthday cakes, I chew on a piece of charcoal.

In my heart I know the truth, but my mind cannot accept the reality of what this all means.

Courage is when you dare to be yourself, in whatever ways you want to be - to not be afraid, to just do it.

I think how the world is still somehow beautiful even when I feel no joy at being alive within it.

In my heart I know the truth, but my mind cannot accept the reality of what this all means.

I am six years old and instead of celebrating with birthday cakes, I chew on a piece of charcoal.

Living life to the fullest involves living it with your family.

I have to go to the toilet," I tell Ma urgently after dinner. "You have to go in the woods." "But where?" "Anywhere you can find. Wait, I'll get you some toilet paper." Ma goes away and comes back with a bunch of paper sheets in her hand. My eyes widen in disbelief, "Ma! It's money. I can't use money!" "Use it, it is of no use to us anymore.

Why are they doing this, Pa?" Kim asks. "Because they are destroyers of things.

No one knows how precious you are. You are a diamond in the rough and with a little polishing, you will shine," Pa whispers softly.

On previous trips the pirates have stolen valuables, killed people, raped and abducted girls...the women work frantically to ugly themselves up by smearing black charcoal paste on their faces and bodies. With ashen faces, some of the younger, prettier girls reach into the bags we have vomited into and scoop out handfuls of it to smear on their hair and clothes.

This is what the war has done to me. Now I want to destroy because of it. There is such hate and rage inside me now. The Angkar has taught me to hate so deeply that I now know I have the power to destroy and kill.

in Cambodia people don't outright compliment a child. They don't want to call attention to the child. It is believed that evil spirits easily get jealous when they hear a child being complimented, and they may come and take away the child to the other world.

The first victims are always the children.

The only way to tell if someone is a bodiless witch is by the deep wrinkle lines around her neck. At night when these witches go to sleep their heads separate from their bodies. Dragging their intestines along, they fly around to places where there's blood and death. The heads fly so fast that no one has ever seen the faces, only their shiny red eyes and sometimes the shadow of their heads and entrails. Once she finds a dead body, the bodiless witch nestles against the corpse all night.

As Pa speaks, I know he thinks someone in our family has stolen the rice. The story of the rat is not true and everyone knows it. Convinced that he realises it was me, I hide my eyes from him. Shame burns my hand like a hot iron branding me for all to see; Pa's favourite child stole from the family. As if to rescue me,Geak wakes up and her screams of hunger interrupt the incident.

Keav tells me the soldiers claim to love Cambodia and its people very much. I wonder then why they are this mean if they love us so much

Dear gods, Pa is a very devout Buddhist. Please help my Pa return home. He is not mean and does not like to hurt other people. Help him return and I will do anything you say. I will devote my entire life to you. I will believe you always. If you cannot bring Pa home to us, please make sure they don't hurt him, or please make sure Pa dies a quick death.

In Phnom Penh, it seems that the more money you have, the more stairs you have to climb to your home. Ma

The Khmer Rogue soldier] screams a loud, shrill cry, that piercing my heart like a stake, and I imagine that this, maybe, is how Pa died. The soldier's head hangs, bobbing up and down like a chicken's... The woman raises her hammer again. I almost feel pity for him. But it is too late to let him go, it is too late to go back. It is too late for my parents and my country.

I've had the chance to do something that's worth my being alive.

When night comes, the gods again taunt us with a radiant sunset. "Nothing should be this beautiful," I quietly say to Chou. "The gods are playing tricks on us. How could they be so cruel and still make the sky so lovely?". My words tug at my heart. It is unfair of the gods to show us beauty when I am in so much pain and anguish. "I want to destroy all the beautiful things.

They say he has kept his identity a secret to guard against assassins. They say that he liberated us from foreign domination and gave us independence. They tell us Pol Pot makes us work hard because he wants to purify our spirit and help us achieve beyond our potential as farmers. They say he has a round face, full lips, and kind eyes. I wonder if his kind eyes can see us starving.