Teasel
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Interested to hear about books you've loved and why?
I'll pick one,
It was suggested to me by a woman staying in a respite home for suicidal people. Couldn't stand her which is not like me but I absolutely loved this book, really powerful.
“ALL YOUR ECSTASY in life is going to come from the inside,” my ballet master had told me. I never understood what he meant. Until Auschwitz.
Magda finally speaks to me. “How do I look?” she asks. “Tell me the truth.” The truth? She looks like a mangy dog. A naked stranger. I can’t tell her this, of course, but any lie would hurt too much and so I must find an impossible answer, a truth that doesn’t wound. I gaze into the fierce blue of her eyes and think that even for her to ask the question, “How do I look?” is the bravest thing I’ve ever heard. There aren’t mirrors here. She is asking me to help her find and face herself. And so I tell her the one true thing that’s mine to say. “Your eyes,” I tell my sister, “they’re so beautiful. I never noticed them when they were covered up by all that hair.” It’s the first time I see that we have a choice: to pay attention to what we’ve lost or to pay attention to what we still have. “Thank you,” she whispers.
I'll pick one,
The Book - Dr. Edith Eger
THE CHOICE: Embrace the Possible Internationally acclaimed psychologist Dr. Edith Eger—one of the last remaining Holocaust survivors—tells her unforgettable story in this moving testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the power of choice in our lives. At the age of sixteen, Edith...
dreditheger.com
It was suggested to me by a woman staying in a respite home for suicidal people. Couldn't stand her which is not like me but I absolutely loved this book, really powerful.
“ALL YOUR ECSTASY in life is going to come from the inside,” my ballet master had told me. I never understood what he meant. Until Auschwitz.
Magda finally speaks to me. “How do I look?” she asks. “Tell me the truth.” The truth? She looks like a mangy dog. A naked stranger. I can’t tell her this, of course, but any lie would hurt too much and so I must find an impossible answer, a truth that doesn’t wound. I gaze into the fierce blue of her eyes and think that even for her to ask the question, “How do I look?” is the bravest thing I’ve ever heard. There aren’t mirrors here. She is asking me to help her find and face herself. And so I tell her the one true thing that’s mine to say. “Your eyes,” I tell my sister, “they’re so beautiful. I never noticed them when they were covered up by all that hair.” It’s the first time I see that we have a choice: to pay attention to what we’ve lost or to pay attention to what we still have. “Thank you,” she whispers.