The Book of Lost Names

Once you’ve fallen in love with books, their presence can make you feel at home anywhere, even in places where you shouldn’t belong.

He had taught her to love reading, one of the greatest gifts a parent could give a child, and in doing so, he had opened the world to her.

But we aren’t defined by the names we carry or the religion we practice, or the nation whose flag flies over our heads. I know that now. We’re defined by who we are in our hearts, who we choose to be on this earth.

You can’t judge a person by their language or their place of origin—though it seems that each new generation insists upon learning that lesson for itself.

Remember that God’s plan for you might be different than the plan you have for yourself.

anyone who saw the magic in books had to be good.

There’s something almost miraculous about seeing a child’s eyes light up when you hand him a book that intrigues him. I’ve always thought that it’s those children—the ones who realize that books are magic—who will have the brightest lives.

...we are only responsible for the things we do—or fail to do—ourselves.

Ah. I should have known. You’re one of us. … You’re someone who finds herself in the pages,”…

She doesn’t understand what it means to love books so passionately that you would die without them, that you would simply stop breathing, stop existing. It is quite beyond me, in fact, why she became a librarian in the first place.

parents make all sorts of errors, because our ability to raise our children is always colored by the lives we’ve lived before they came along.

Because books bring us to another time and place,” the woman said as she handed over Eva’s pens and accepted the francs Eva gave her. “And you look as if you need that.

I used to think that memories were less painful when you held them close. I think perhaps that isn't true though. Now I think pain loses its power when we share it.

I’ve always thought that it’s those children—the ones who realize that books are magic—who will have the brightest lives.

We’re defined by who we are in our hearts, who we choose to be on this earth.

Hope was a dangerous thief, stealing her today's for a tomorrow that would never come

Life turns on the decisions we make, the single moments that transform everything.

Books, wherever they were in the world, always felt like home to her.

I mention in the dedication that this book is partially in honor of booksellers and librarians everywhere. I can’t say enough about how much I’ve been impacted by the magic of bookstores and libraries. Books can change lives, but it is the people who love them, who dedicate their lives to them, who make the real difference. If books can’t find their way to the readers who need them, who will be touched by them, who will be transformed by them, they lose their power. So thank you for the bottom of my heart to anyone who works in a bookstore or a library—and especially to those of you who have been courageous and adventurous enough to become bookstore owners, which must be as perilous at times as it is rewarding. Books are more than just words on a page; they are bridges to building communities and to developing more compassionate, more aware citizens. Those of you who love books enough to want to share them are truly changing the world. (in acknowledgements)

I am, too, but the greatest deeds in life require us to rise above our fear.

My room is lined with books, most of them stacked in precarious piles on the bowing bookshelves Louis assembled years ago. They are filled with other people’s stories, and I’ve spent my life disappearing into them. Sometimes, when the nights are dark and silent and I’m alone, I wonder if I would have survived without the escape their pages offered me from reality. Then again, perhaps they just gave me an excuse to duck out of my own life.

The path of life is darkest when we choose to walk it alone.

those “who realize that books are magic… will have the brightest lives.

There’s danger in being principled in the midst of a war, but I believe that it’s more dangerous not to be.” “What do you mean?” He seemed to be searching for the words. “I mean that I would rather die knowing I tried to do the right thing than live knowing I had turned my back. Do you understand?

Loss would forever be etched on the child like a tattoo; it might fade over time, but it would never be erased.

And isn’t that the moral of the story anyhow? You can’t judge a person by their language or their place of origin—though it seems that each new generation insists upon learning that lesson for itself.

But if there’s one thing I’ve learned since the start of the war, it’s that as long as we believe, we take our faith with us, whatever we do, wherever we go, if our motives are pure.

It’s you,” he said softly when finally he was at her side. “It’s you,” she breathed, and then his lips were on hers, and he was kissing her in a way that made her forget the world around them for a few precious seconds.

You do honor her—and me—every day by being the kind of person we raised you to be.

My point is that every parent wants what is best for his or her child. But we are all guilty of seeing things through the lens of our own lives. We forget sometimes that it is your life to live.