Posts tagged change of heart
Maggie May
"Reading gives us someplace to go when we have to stay where we are.”
Change of Heart, by Jodi Picoult was like a fish on a hook the entire time. Something was always happening. In the first 100 pages you could tell a story that would seem like the book is over, but it’s no where near being finished. The title “Change of Heart,” can be looked at in the most literal sense in the book, but it can also apply to many deeper themes of the book. Although this wasn’t my favorite Jodi Picoult book, I still enjoy it, and recommend it to anyone who like dramatic mysteries, and for those who also question who God is, and which belief system is ‘correct’. It incorporates a lot of religion in the story, while unfolding the truth behind the characters past and courtcase scenes. Overall, it was enjoyable.
You know how I see it? There’s always going to be bad stuff out there. But here’s the amazing thing — light trumps darkness, every time. You stick a candle into the dark, but you can’t stick the dark into the light. I guess from my point of view, we can choose to bein hte dark or we can light a candle.
His fingers were warm as they played over me, as they coaxed me into the bedroom and under the covers, as they traced the curves of my body like a roller coaster, a thrill ride, a wonder. And somewhere in the middle of it all, I stopped worrying about sucking in my stomach, or if he could see me in the half-light of the moon, and instead noticed how seamlessly we fit together; how when I let go of me, there was only room for us.
Family’s not a thing, it’s a place. It’s where all the memories get kept.
I had been naive enough to believe then that you could take something toxic and poisonous, and contain it so that you’d never be burned by it again.
Someone once told me that when you give birth to a daughter, you’ve just met the person whose hand you’ll be holding the day you die.
Leave it to me to ruin a date that wasn’t even really one.
It was so damn hard to find love in this world, to locate someone who could make you feel that there was a reason you’d been put on this earth. A child, I imagined, was teh purest form of that. A child was the love you didn’t have to look for, didn’t have to prove anything to, didn’t have to worry about losing.
I thought God was supposed to love you unconditionally. Mass every sunday, holy day of obligation, receiving the Eucharist, reconcilliation once a year, giving money to the poor, observing lent. Those sure sound like a lot of conditions to me.
If you bring forth what is within you, what is within you will save you. If you don’t bring forth what is within you, what is within you will destroy you.
Where your treasure is, there your heart will be.
I know God will not give me anything I can’t handle. I just wish he didn’t trust me so much.
Do you know how, when you’re on the verge of a breakdown, the world pounds in your ears — a rush of blood, of consequence? Do you know how it feels when the truth cuts your tongue to ribbons, and you still have to speak it?
There is so much pain in this world, I thought, how do any of us manage to get up in the morning?
They say God won’t give you any more than you can handle, but that begs a more important question: why would God let you suffer in the first place?
