“Gently I touched his arm."Consider your promise fulfilled. You can go home now."
He raised his head to pierce me with his dark, anguished eyes. "I'm trying to -- if you'd stop fighting me with every breath."
"Don't be absurd. Chicago's not your home."
"No," he said. "You are.”
“Yoga’s nothing but young girls twistin’ themselves into pretzels and prayin’ to the devil.”
“You need to let yourself be forgiven.”
“My philosophy had always been to do the leaving first.”
“Just once I’d like to save the world at high noon like a cowboy.”
“Stop torturing yourself and just let go. Surrender all the guilt, the pain, everything you’ve been carrying — leave it all here.”
“She’s Eponine — but of a platonic sort. You’re my Cossette.”
“He may not have said the words, but I know my son. I saw the way he looked at you."
"How?"
"Like he'd do murder for you.”
“Instead Avi insisted they risk their lives by defying the Nazi curfew to get to a top-secret “emergency” meeting with Maurice Tulek and three other underground cell commanders, none of whom Jacob had ever met. “Gentlemen, thank you for agreeing to meet with me, and especially on such short notice,” Avi began as they huddled in the uninsulated attic of a farmhouse on the outskirts of a town called Herstal. “A few hours ago, I received credible intelligence that the Nazis have moved a total of nineteen trainloads of Jews—mostly women and children, but also men, especially the elderly—out of Belgium to a concentration camp in Poland, a camp known as Auschwitz.”
“My mother named me after a miracle of nature: Waris means desert flower. The desert flower blooms in a barren environment where few living things can survive.”
“I wanted to stop talking about the whole thing. I wanted to talk about the hide and the old days and hacking at the ice and whose turn it was to toss the marble and all that, that was what I wanted to talk about. They were the best days, you could see through them days, as clear as polished glass. But Joe didn't want to.”
“Man African societies divide humans into 3 categories: those still alive on the earth, the sasha, and the zamani. The recently departed whose time on earth overlapped with people still here are the sasha, the living-dead. They are not wholly dead, for they still live in the memories of the living, who can call them to mind, create their likeness in art, and bring them to life in anecdote. When the last person to know an ancestor dies, that ancestor leaves the sasha for the zamani, the dead. As generalized ancestors, the zamani are not forgotten but revered. Many...can be recalled by name. But they are not living-dead. There is a difference.”
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