Sophie's Choice Quotes

Someday I will understand Auschwitz. This was a brave statement but innocently absurd. No one will ever understand Auschwitz. What I might have set down with more accuracy would have been: Someday I will write about Sophie's life and death, and thereby help demonstrate how absolute evil is never extinguished from the world. Auschwitz itself remains inexplicable. The most profound statement yet made about Auschwitz was not a statement at all, but a response. The query: "At Auschwitz, tell me, where was God?" And the answer: "Where was man?

This was not judgment day - only morning. Morning: excellent and fair.

There are friends one makes at a youthful age in whom one simply rejoices, for whom one possesses a love and loyalty mysteriously lacking in the friendships made in after-years, no matter how genuine.

I had a choice: Follow my heart or don’t break his. I think in the end I broke a bit of both our hearts.

Let your love flow out on all living things.

I have learned to cry again and I think perhaps that means I am a human being again. Perhaps that at least. A piece of human being but yes, a human being.

The right choice sometimes isn’t easy, Sophie. But that doesn’t mean it’s not right.

She was in love with you,” he says. “And I don’t think she got to tell you, did she?” My heart lurches, seizes inside my chest, fluttering to life at the words I’ve always wanted to hear. I shake my head. Tears spill down my cheeks. “She loved you. She wanted to be with you. That’s why she told me about herself. She said she’d made her choice. It was you. I think it was always you.

Mercifully, I was at that age when reading was still a passion and thus, save for a happy marriage, the best state possible in which to keep absolute loneliness at bay. I could not have made it through those evenings otherwise.

I suddenly encountered the face of loneliness, and decided that it was a merciless and ugly face indeed.

Every choice sets the table. Sooner or later, we all sit down to a banquet of consequences

Then I resolved that I would go back out there and somehow cope with the situation, despite the fact that I lacked a strategy and was frightened to the pit of my being.

On Major Depression, quoted by the great William Styron of Sophie's Choice & Darkness Visible: From Darkness Visible, William Styron "It is a positive and active anguish, a sort of psychical neuralgia, wholly unknown to normal life.

Nevertheless we are free individuals, and this freedom condemns us to make choices throughout our lives. There are no eternal values or norms we can adhere to, which makes our choices even more significant. Because we are totally responsible for everything we do. Sartre emphasized that man must never disclaim the responsibility for his actions. Nor can we avoid the responsibility of making our own choices on the grounds that we "must" go to work, or we "must" live up to certain middle-class expectations regarding how we should live. Those who thus slip into the anonymous masses will never be other than members of the impersonal flock, having fled from themselves into self-deception. On the other hand our freedom obliges us to make something of ourselves, to live "authentically" or "truly".

Dress is important. It's part of being human. It might as well be a thing of beauty, something you take real pleasure in doing. And maybe in the process, give other people pleasure. Though that's secondary.

One heart, one mind, one soul. What is joined by choice can never be torn apart. You're mine, and I'm yours. Yesterday, today, and forever.

Don’t you ever believe that, Mara. This is what gives us power: we always have a choice.

I don’t see any point in trying to equate one evil with another, or to assign some stupid scale of values. They’re both awful! Would

An extermination center can only manufacture corpses; a society of total domination creates a world of the living dead...

Why? As much fun as a hospital sounds, I'd rather spend the evening dancing with an amazing, smart, funny, interesting, beautiful girl who has the most incredible green eyes I've ever seen. Sophie, will you go to the dance with me?

he never allowed himself to think about unpleasant things, which answered very well, and could be supported in times of really inescapable stress by his genius for persuading himself that any disagreeable necessity forced upon him by his own folly, or his son's overriding will, was the outcome of his own choice and wise decision.

real evil is gloomy, monotonous, barren, boring.” Beyond

This was not judgment day—only morning. Morning: excellent and fair.

..bet gal nedera vienos meilės lyginti su kita

The query: “At Auschwitz, tell me, where was God?” And the answer: “Where was man?

...her father finds being called a Holocaust surviver demeaning. 'When people talk about the Holocaust, they talk about gas chambers, Auschwitz -- the Holocaust is not just about that,' she said. 'It's about the little humiliations, the loss of dignity.' Her father made much the same point in the film. 'People talk about Sophie's Choice as if it was a rare event,' he said. 'It wasn't. Everybody had to make Sophie's Choice -- all of us. My mother left behind a four-year-old with the maid. You don't think I was beaten and shot at? There are no violins in my story. It is the most common thing that happened.

At Dachau. We had a wonderful pool for the garrison children. It was even heated. But that was before we were transferred. Dachau was ever so much nicer than Auschwitz. But then, it was in the Reich. See my trophies there. The one in the middle, the big one. That was presented to me by the Reich Youth Leader himself, Baldur von Schirach. Let me show you my scrapbook.

I hesitate a moment. Wearing his dressing gown seems a bit cutesy. A bit Let me put on your great big manly shirt and allow the sleeves to flap endearingly around my fingers. But I have no choice.

And so you see, dear reader, the death of my friend Sophie forced me to realize that the whole universe is one big concentration camp run by God -- the biggest Nazi of them all! So slavery in Virginia wasn't all that bad. And it was really God's fault anyway. Pretty good tragic insight there. Think I'll crank some Bellamy Brothers and get loaded!

I’ve seen all those movies, of course. Schindler’s List, The Pianist, Sophie’s Choice. And I’ve watched a few documentaries and read a few books. But you don’t really get a sense of it until you’re actually there, do you? Have you ever been, Mrs F.?’ I said nothing.

I was still in this state of being a little girl and thinking that this wonderful life so comfortable and safe and secure would continue forever. Mama

the fate of Bobby Weed at the hands of white Southern Americans is as bottomlessly barbaric as any act performed by the Nazis during the rule of Adolf Hitler! Do

greed is not a racial but a human prediliction and

Misogyny will always occupy any space it’s given.

Says the person who spent thousands of years in prison,” Keefe said, wrapping an arm around Sophie’s waist to calm her shaking. “Not exactly a model of awesome choices.

I’m tired of chasing affection. I’m worth more than that. I may be young, but I know what I want. I want someone who’s willing to give up everything for me. And I deserve someone who’s proud to be with me instead of being ashamed of their feelings.” “I’m not going to be the lost puppy chasing someone around and begging for attention. I’m going to take some time and figure out what I want to do next, but until I know my next move, I’m done being a burden.” “Sophie—” “It’s not your fault, Bruce. It’s been like this my whole life. I’m just tired of being a second choice.

To make matters worse, I was out of a job and had very little money and was self-exiled to Flatbush—like others of my countrymen, another lean and lonesome Southerner wandering amid the Kingdom of the Jews.

Aushwitze itself remains explicable. The most profound statement yet made upon Aushwitz was not a statement at all, but a response. The query, 'At Aushwitze, tell me, where was God?' And the answer: 'Where was man?

Those strange creepy people, all picking at their little... scabs,” she had complained to me when Nathan was not around. “I hate this type of—and here I thought she used a lovely gem of a phrase—“unearned unhappiness!

Are there, as science fiction and Gnostic speculation imply, different species of time in the same world, 'good time' and enveloping folds of inhuman time, in which men fall into the slow hands of the living damnation?

Someday I will understand Auschwitz. This was a brave statement but innocently absurd. No one will ever understand Auschwitz. What I might have set down with more accuracy would have been: Someday I will write about Sophie's life and death, and thereby help demonstrate how absolute evil is never extinguished from the world. Auschwitz itself remains inexplicable. The most profound statement yet made about Auschwitz was not a statement at all, but a response. The query: "At Auschwitz, tell me, where was God?" And the answer: "Where was man?

I don't know what you want from me then,' she cried, casting out her arms. 'For I cannot make my situation any different. I must marry. And so far, I have no promises.' He would not look at her. 'Ask me then,' she said, voice raw, 'ask me if I should like, if I should want to marry Pemberton, were the choice only about me?' He looked up. 'Would you?' 'No,' she said, voice cracking. 'Now ask me, whether I should still love you, were the choice only mine to make?' He took a step forward. 'Would you?' he said again. 'Yes,' she confessed. 'I will always choose my sisters. I will choose their need more than my want every day. But I want you just as much as I need money. You see me, in my entirety - the worst and the best of me - as no one else ever has.

For the first time in my life, which had for years been sometimes witlessly gregarious, I discovered the pain of unwanted solitude. Like a felon suddenly thrown into solitary confinement, I found myself feeding off the unburned fat of inward resources I barely knew I possessed.

The apartment was entirely, was only, for her: a wall of books, both read and unread, all of them dear to her not only in themselves, their tender spines, but in the moments or periods they evoked. She had kept some books since college that she had acquired for courses and never read—Fredric Jameson, for example, and Kant’s Critique of Judgment—but which suggested to her that she was, or might be, a person of seriousness, a thinker in some seeping, ubiquitous way; and she had kept, too, a handful of children’s books taken fro her now-dismantled girlhood room, like Charlotte’s Web and the Harriet the Spy novels, that conjured for her an earlier, passionately earnest self, the sober child who read constantly in the back of her parents’ Buick, oblivious to her brother punching her knee, oblivious to her parents’ squabbling, oblivious to the traffic and landscapes pressing upon her from outside the window. She had, in addition to her books, a modest shelf of tapes and CDs that served a similar, though narrower, function…she was aware that her collection was comprised largely of mainstream choices that reflected—whether popular or classical—not so much an individual spirit as the generic tastes of her times: Madonna, the Eurythmics, Tracy Chapman from her adolescence; Cecilia Bartoli, Anne-Sophie Mutter, Mitsuko Uchida; more recently Moby and the posthumously celebrated folk-singing woman from Washington, DC, who had died of a melanoma in her early thirties, and whose tragic tale attracted Danielle more than her familiar songs. Her self, then, was represented in her books; her times in her records; and the rest of the room she thought of as a pure, blank slate.

Sophie Bach from The Maker: You’re a human being with a personality and a will, and you make choices and think and create. Is there no meaning to you, Adrien Bach? And what about us? Is the way we feel about each other just simulated emotions from some biological process—nothing more?

His finger floated across her cheek to her temple, and then from there traced her eyebrow, ruffling the soft hairs as it moved to the bridge of her nose. “So pretty,” he said softly, “like a storybook fairy. Sometimes I think you couldn’t possibly be real.” Her only reply was a quickening of breath. “I think I’m going to kiss you,” he whispered. “You think?” “I think I have to kiss you,” he said, looking as if he couldn’t quite believe his own words. “It’s rather like breathing. One doesn’t have much choice in the matter.” Benedict’s kiss was achingly tender. -Benedict & Sophie

I mean, I don't know much about the Civil War, but whenever I think of that time—I mean, ever since Gone With the Wind I've had these fantasies about those generals, those gorgeous young Southern generals with their tawny mustaches and beards, and hair in ringlets, on horseback. And those beautiful girls in crinoline and pantalettes. You would never know that they ever fucked, from all you're able to read." She paused and squeezed my hand. "I mean, doesn't it just do something to you to think of one of those ravishing girls with that crinoline all in a fabulous tangle, and one of those gorgeous young officers—I mean, both of them fucking like crazy?" "Oh yes," I said with a shiver, "oh yes, it does. It enlarges one's sense of history.

It’s not fair.” She folded her arms across her chest and pushed out her lower lip. “Why did God give us free will anyway? Everybody just gets in trouble.” “Not always. Think of all the good choices people make.” “But it’s not fair that someone gets hurt because a person makes a bad choice.” “I know. But don’t forget that sometimes we’re the ones who make choices that hurt someone else.” Kurt felt the sting of his own words and wondered if Emily noticed. “I’d still prefer having choices to being a puppet, wouldn’t you?” “I guess so.

KEY POINT: To be a true choice, your hero must either select one of two positive outcomes or, on rare occasions, avoid one of two negative outcomes (as in Sophie’s Choice).

I still mourn the fact that I lacked the courage to quit on the spot. Instead, I went on a sort of slow-down strike—work-stoppage would be a more accurate term.

How simultaneously enfeebling and insulting is an empty page! Devoid

there is only one way out—up the chimney.’ He

If there are Jews in this group, you have no right to live more than two weeks.’ Then he said, ‘Any nuns here? Like the priests, you have one month. All the rest, three months.

the iron determination with which we must carry out Hitler’s orders could only be obtained by a stifling of all human emotions.

the repressiveness of a society in general is directly proportionate to its harsh repression of sexual language.” What

absolute evil paralyzes absolutely. In

Neath cold sand I dreamed of death / but woke at dawn to see / in glory, the bright, the morning star.

Höss was hardly a sadist, nor was he a violent man or even particularly menacing. He might even be said to have possessed a serviceable decency. Indeed,

history’s greatest liquidator of Jews, the thick-witted Heinrich Himmler, was a chicken farmer.

in modern times most of the mischief ascribed to the military has been wrought with the advice and consent of civil authority. As

more often than not the person one loves from whom one withholds the most searing truths about one’s self, if only out of the very human motive to spare groundless pain. But

Is it best to know about a child's death, even one so horrible, or to know that the child lives but that you will never, never see him again?

A faint mist of perspiration clung to her skin like aphrodisia,

You’re better off driving your Hummer to go get a salad than driving your Prius to a barbecue.

I want him. Desperately. Even I simultaneously know that a lot of things I might want in life are not good choices.

Sophie slept, understanding with a dreamer’s fierce clarity that she was doomed.

Mercifully, I was at that age when reading was still a passion and thus, save for a happy marriage, the best state possible in which to keep absolute loneliness at bay.

Somehow I still could not believe that this life we all have together would ever be changed.

She was determined to put behind her the madness of the past—or as much as a vulnerable and memory-racked mind permitted—

O Lord God of my salvation, I have cried day and night before thee: Let my prayer come before thee: incline thine ear unto my cry; For my soul is full of troubles...

What causes human beings to inflict upon themselves these stupid little scissor snips of unhappy remembrance?

it is more often than not the person one loves from whom one withholds the most searing truths about one’s self, if only out of the very human motive to spare groundless pain.

She had not planned to weep—it was the last thing from her mind, a display of mawkish weakness—but she could not help it.

But I could tell from the way his muscles become stiff and this trembling that ran through him that he was finished with me. Even so I couldn’t stop.

I was so completely dependent on him, you see, and that was not a healthy thing.

In my career as a writer I have always been attracted to morbid themes—suicide, rape, murder, military life, marriage, slavery.

almost unique in Eastern Europe in possessing its own constitution, called even now “the Magdeburg rights” and based upon medieval laws formulated in the city of Magdeburg? Was

counted my money and reckoned my total worth at something less than fifty dollars. Although, as I said, I was without real fear in my plight, I could not help feeling a trifle insecure, especially

If I am no longer able to function with you, it is, you understand, due to no lack of virility but because almost everything about you, especially your body, leaves me totally without sensation... I

It was, of course, the memory of Sophie and Nathan's long-ago plunge that set loose this flood [of tears], but it was also a letting go of rage and sorrow for the many others who during these past months had battered at my mind and now demanded my mourning: Sophie and Nathan, yes, but also Jan and Eva -- Eva with her one-eyed mis -- and Eddie Farrell, and Bobby Weed, and my young black savior Artiste, and Maria Hunt, and Nat Turner, and Wanda Muck-Horch von Kretschmann, who were but a few of the beaten and butchered and betrayed and martyred children of the earth. I did not weep for the six million Jews or the two million Poles or the one million Serbs or the five million Russians -- I was unprepared to weep for all humanity -- but I did weep for these others who in one way or another had become dear to me, and my sobs made an unashamed racket across the abandoned beach; then I had no more tears to shed, I lowered myself to the sand...and slept...When I awoke it was nearly morning...I heard children chattering nearby. I stirred...Blessing my resurrection, I realized that the children had covered me with sand, protectively, and that I lay as safe as a mummy beneath this fine, enveloping overcoat.

Sophie Betsuie lost her composure and returned to the hogan, crying. She was beating herself up with a club made out of the words if only, and I knew what it felt like. If only I hadn’t done this. If only someone else hadn’t done that. I hoped she would learn sooner, rather than later, that you can’t unchoose anyone’s choices, least of all your own. All you can do with your past is try to grow out of it.

Most émigrés arrived at Ellis Island in New York, invariably confused and exhausted from an unpleasant and dangerous voyage. Health inspectors checked every immigrant, and while the inspections were not particularly rigid, people were routinely refused entry. Often it was a child, leaving the mother with a sort of Sophie’s choice—whether to go back to Europe with the rejected son or daughter or stay with her husband and other children.

You have two choices,” Sophie decided, placing her hands on her hips—even though most of her torso was under the mud, so the effect was somewhat muted. “You can wade in now on your own. Or I can have Sandor pick you up and toss you in.” “Everyone votes for option B, right?” Dex asked. The chorus of “yes” was definitely unanimous. “I hate all of you,” Stina informed them as Sandor stalked toward her with a smile that looked downright gleeful. “Fine. I’ll do it on my own—back off!” She moved to the edge of the mud again. And then she just stood there. “Ten seconds,” Sophie warned. “Then it’s Sandor dunk time! Ten… nine… eight…” Biana, Dex, and Wylie joined in the countdown as Stina made a noise that was part growl, part moaning whale. “Four… three…” Stina muttered a string of words that would’ve made Ro proud. Then she shuffled into the mud, trying to move slowly and carefully. But two steps in, she lost her footing and… SPLASH! “For the record,” Dex said as Stina burst back to the surface looking like a sludge beast and screaming like a banshee, “this might be the greatest moment of my life.

It was true that I had traveled great distances for one so young, but my spirit had remained landlocked, unacquainted with love and all but a stranger to death…I had absented myself in my smug and airless self-deprivation.

He looked at her, a scared boy in a man-wolf's body. "I love you Sophie," he breathed. "I love everything about you. Even the terrible parts of you. They're as beautiful as the good parts. I knew from the moment I met you that I couldn't love anyone else. Not like I love you. I tried, Sophie. I tried to let you go. But love doesn't give you that choice. Not real love. At least you'll know now. That your story had a happy ending all along. That you had true love. Always.

Military men are capable of abominable crimes; witness, in our recent time alone, Chile, My Lai, Greece. But it is a "liberal" fallacy that equates the military mind with real evil and makes it the exclusive province of lieutenants or generals; the secondary evil of which the military is frequently capable is aggressive, romantic, melodramatic, thrilling, orgasmic. Real evil, the suffocating evil of Auschwitz—gloomy, monotonous, barren, boring—was perpetrated almost exclusively by civilians.

Despoiled and exploited like the South, and like it, a poverty-ridden, agrarian, feudal society, Poland has shared with the Old South one bulwark against its immemorial humiliation, and that is pride. Pride and the recollection of vanished glories.

As material beings we belong wholly to the natural world. We are therefore subject to causal relations. As such, we have no free will. But as rational beings we have a part in what Kant calls das Ding an sich -- that is, the world as it exists in itself, independent of our sensory impressions. Only when we follow our 'practical reason' -- which enables us to make moral choices -- do we exercise our free will, because when we conform to moral law, it is we who make the law we are conforming to.

... my choices still follow me. They are a part of me.' 'Only if you let them be. Yes, choices define your life, Soph, but you make new ones every single day. Life is a work in progress, and how we define it changes as we change, as our choices change.

his disease, whatever it was, resided in shadier corners of his soul—where decisions were reached not through reason but by rationalization, and where a thin membranous growth of selfishness always seemed to prevent his decent motives from becoming happy actions.

Don’t get married until you’re forty. Live alone for as long as you can. Trust your gut and meditate if you are torn about what to do. The answer will always come to you and you’ll never regret it, because you’ll look back and know you made that choice with a clear mind.

I never knew it happened like that." I snap my gaze to her. "What?" "You know. Romeo and Juliet stuff. Love at first sight and all that." "It's not like that," I say quickly. "You could have fooled me." We're up again. Catherine takes her shot. It swishes cleanly through the hoop. When I shoot, the ball bounces hard off the backboard and flies wildly through the air, knocking the coach in the head. I slap a hand over my mouth. The coach barely catches herself from falling. Several students laugh. She glares at me and readjusts her cap. With a small wave of apology, I head back to the end of the line. Will's there, fighting laughter. "Nice," he says. "Glad I'm downcourt of you." I cross my arms and resist smiling, resist letting myself feel good around him. But he makes it hard. I want to smile. I want to like him, to be around him, to know him. "Happy to amuse you." His smile slips then, and he's looking at me with that strange intensity again. Only I understand. I know why. He must remember...must recognize me on some level even though he can't understand it. "You want to go out?" he asks suddenly. I blink. "As in a date?" "Yes. That's what a guy usually means when he asks that question." Whistles blow. The guys and girls head in opposite directions. "Half-court scrimmage," Will mutters, looking unhappy as he watches the coaches toss out jerseys. "We'll talk later in study hall. Okay?" I nod, my chest uncomfortably tight, breath hard to catch. Seventh period. A few hours to decide whether to date a hunter. The choice should be easy, obvious, but already my head aches. I doubt anything will ever be easy for me again.

servomechanism in which a moral vacuum had been so successfully sucked clean of every molecule of real qualm or scruple that his own descriptions of the unutterable crimes he perpetrated daily seem often to float outside and apart from evil, phantasms of cretinous innocence. Yet

During that spring afternoon’s jaunt in the company of one of Poland’s most influential anti-Semites, her admirer Walter Dürrfeld, like his host, uttered not a word about Jews. Six years later almost all that she heard from Dürrfeld’s lips concerned Jews and their consignment to oblivion.

Okay, two choices, Keefe told her, standing up and tilting her chin toward him. “You can tell me what’s wrong. Or I can put my Empath powers to work-but keep in mind, Option B will likely pick up on all kinds of other feelings.” Sophie gave him her surliest scowl, but he didn’t back down.

One of the things I cannnot grasp, though I have often written about them, trying to get them into some kind of bearable perspective," Steiner writes, "is the time relation." Steiner has just quoted descriptions of the brutal deaths of two Jews at the Treblinka extermination camp. "Precisely at the same hour in which Mehring and Langner were being done to death, the overwhelming plurality of human beings, two miles away on the Polish farms, five thousand miles away in New York, were sleeping or eating or going to a film or making love or worrying about the dentist. This is where my imagination balks. The two orders of simultaneous experience are so different, so irreconcilable to any common norm of human values, their coexistence is so hideous a paradox-Treblinka is both because some men have built it and almost all other men let it be-that I puzzle over time.

A mother in J Brand skinny jeans with an impeccably dressed daughter walks past, giving me the Mummy Once-over, and I flinch. Since I had Minnie, I’ve learned that the Mummy Once-over is even more savage than the Manhattan Once-over. In the Mummy Once-over, they don’t just assess and price your clothes to the nearest penny in one sweeping glance. Oh no. They also take in your child’s clothes, pram brand, nappy bag, snack choice and whether your child is ­ smiling, snotty or screaming. Which I know is a lot to take in, in a one-second glance, but believe me, mothers are multi-taskers.

they appeared from where I stood as peaceful as two lovers who had gaily costumed themselves for an afternoon stroll, but on impulse had decided to lie down and nap, or kiss and make love, or merely whisper to each other of fond matters, and were frozen in this grave and tender embrace forever.

I may only get one life, but if I had the choice, any choice in the matter at all, I would spend the rest of it kissing her- every wretched second I have left- just so I would never have to face breaking apart for the last time, knowing that eventually even the memory of her taste will be lost to me.

I did not weep for the six million Jews or the two million Poles or the one million Serbs or the five million Russians -- I was unprepared to weep for all humanity -- but I did weep for these others who in one way or another had become dear to me, and my sobs made an unashamed racket across the abandoned beach

It’s Miss Foster’s decision,” Mr. Forkle interrupted. Sophie snorted. “Right. Just like it was my decision the day you reset my abilities. I could either stay malfunctioning, or risk my life to fix everything—and bonus: It was the only way I’d be able to heal Prentice and Alden. That’s not much of a choice, is it?

After dinner yesterday, I went to the movies and saw Meryl Streep in Sophie’s Choice. Hitler’s invasion of Poland only figured in the film. In the film, Meryl Streep divorces Dustin Hoffman, but then in a commuter train she meets this civil engineer played by Robert De Niro, and remarries. A pretty all-right movie.

Shouldn’t you go with someone who isn’t a walking interspeciesial disaster?” “Sophie is far from a disaster,” Grady argued, placing a reassuring hand on Sophie’s shoulder. “Yeah, the only disaster I see here is you,” Dex told Stina. “And let me guess. You think you’d be a better leader?” Stina laughed. “You think I want that kind of responsibility? Uh, yeah, hard pass. Wylie’s the obvious choice. He’s older, with more training and experience, and—” “Not necessarily,” Wylie interrupted. “Sophie may be younger, but she’s lived through more than all of us combined.” “Since when is ‘not dying’ a qualification for leadership?” Stina countered.

outrageously at his temples (by then his need to do something had become like a panic, a fierce drive up ward and outward from his self that had begun to cut like flame through the boozy dreamland, the nit-picking, the inertia, the navel-gazing), said loudly and impatiently: “What do you mean there is not a hope in the world?

But I did not write any such letter that evening. Because when I returned to the house I encountered Sophie in the flesh for the first time and fell, if not instantaneously, then swiftly and fathomlessly in love with her. It was a love which, as time wore on that summer, I realized had many reasons for laying claim to my existence.

It is in the rules, a woman like that. There is no choice. With someone like Sophie, you are part of a greater agency, you make sure things are going right for her. If she is not mean-spirited or too selfish, you fall in love. You grow up, you become a man, you realize you have clear responsibilities. Then you are truly with her. You are partners.

I would give almost anything I own to be alive when that day comes, as it surely will, when Harry Byrd sees negro men and women sitting not at the back of the bus but riding free and equal through all the streets of Virginia. For that I would willingly be called that hateful epithet “nigger lover,” which I am sure I am called already in private by many,

Musel jsem se dívat na průzory do plynových komor a sám sledovat proces smrti... Znovu a znovu se mě ptali, jak se já a moji lidé na tyto operace můžeme nepřetržitě dívat a jak jsme schopni to vydržet. Má stálá odpověď zněla, že je to otázka železného odhodlání, s jakým musíme plnit Hitlerovy rozkazy, a takové odhodlání že lze získat pouze potlačením všech lidských citů.

way I dealt with that great classic of modern adventure, Kon-Tiki Months later, watching this book remain first on the best-seller list for unbelievable week after week, I was able to rationalize my blindness by saying to myself that if McGraw-Hill had paid me more than ninety cents an hour I might have been more sensitive to the nexus between good books and filthy lucre.

In debate, especially when the dispute is hot and supercharged and freighted with ill will, I have always been the flabbiest of contenders. My voice breaks, becomes shrill; I sweat. I get a sloppy half-grin on my face. Worse, my mind wanders and then takes flight while the logic I possess in fair measure under more placid circumstances abandons my brain like an ungrateful urchin.

A QUESTIONABLE CHOICE IN PET: Much like Sophie, Linh appears to have a penchant for weirdly-cute-but-unusually-challenging pets. In Linh’s case, she chose to adopt a murcat—despite Tam’s protests, and the fact that murcats are known for having large venomous fangs. Records indicate that the murcat is named Princess Purryfins, and it’s highly possible the name was chosen specifically to annoy her brother.

Okay, so you have two choices,” he told her. “You can tell me what brought on the Foster Funk. Or I can guess—and I have some pretty interesting theories.” “So do I,” Ro added, snatching the box of Prattles away from Keefe and pouring half the candy into her mouth at once. “Three seconds to decide,” Keefe warned. “Then it’s guessing time!” “It’s not a big deal,” Sophie told him over the sound of Ro’s crunching.

what. Content strategy asks these questions of stakeholders and clients: Why are we doing this? What are we hoping to accomplish, change, or encourage? How will we measure the success of this initiative and the content in it? What measurements of success or metrics do we need to monitor to know if we are successful? How will we ensure the web remains a priority? What do we need to change in resources, staffing, and budgets to maintain the value of communication within and from the organization? What are we trying to communicate? What's the hierarchy of that messaging? This isn't Sophie's Choice, but when you start prioritizing features on a homepage and allocating budget to your list of features and content needs, get ready to make some tough calls. What content types best meet the needs of our target audience and their changing, multiple contexts? What content types best fit the skills of our

And I realize how faulty were my own perceptions, how clumsily I handled the situation, with what lack of wit and with what ineffectiveness did I deal with Nathan at a moment when supreme delicacy was called for… far from my mind was any idea that Nathan might be disturbed. I thought he was merely being a colossal prick. I regarded Nathan’s outburst as a shocking failure of character, a lapse of decency, rather than the product of some aberration of mind.

Advice. Who’s the coolest, toughest, hottest rocker girl you can think of?” “Debbie Harry,” Mom said. “Tha—” “Not finished,” Mom interrupted. “You can’t ask me to pick only one. That’s so Sophie’s Choice. Kathleen Hanna. Patti Smith. Joan Jett. Courtney Love, in her demented destructionist way. Lucinda Williams, even though she’s country she’s tough as nails. Kim Gordon from Sonic Youth, pushing fifty and still at it. That Cat Power woman. Joan Armatrading.

I sometimes feel as if my puny brain is the battleground for all these battles. I can't remain aloof because there's no happiness for me in so doing, because there's no happiness without truth—and this war is essentially a war about truth. Every false throne must first crack and splinter, that's the distressing thing, before the genuine can appear in unadulterated form. I mean that personally and spiritually, not politically. I've been presented with a choice.

For most of your life, you are accustomed to a sense of your own importance; that the choices you make and the actions you perform have weight and consequence. You worry about a word misspoken or a decision rushed. You view other lives in relation to their significance and connection to you. Your parents, your children, your friends. You view your own life in relation to your successes and defeats. These are the things that matter. Winning a race, a fight, a war. Loving a partner or a cause. Saving a life or the planet. But when you think ‘planet’ you think ‘humans’. When you think about winning, you disregard the loss of others. When you think about love, you wonder who loves you back. Your worldview is selfish beyond your own survival, beyond your code. The universe revolves around you. One day you stand alone on a mountain or in a crater, and in that glimpse at the majesty of the sea or the eternity of the stars, in that moment when the telescope reverses, your sense of your unique self collapses and you carry the knowledge with you and you try never to forget. Have

I had Sophie in my arms when Eric came in. He went straight to Delia and kissed her on the mouth, then bent his forehead against hers for a moment, as if whatever he was thinking may be transferred by osmosis. Then Eric turned, his eyes locking on his daughter. "You can hold her," Delia prompted. But Eric didn't make any move to take Sophie from me. I took a step toward him, and saw what Delia must have overlooked--Eric's hands were shaking so hard that he had buried him in his coat pockets. I pushed the baby against his chest, so that he'd have no choice but to grab hold. "It's okay," I said under my breath-To Eric? To Sophie? To myself?-and as I transferred this tiny prize to Eric's arms, I held long longer than I had to. I made damn sure he was steady, before I let go.

We need to have a serious discussion about your leadership skills, Miss Foster,” Bronte’s sharp voice barked the next morning, jolting Sophie out of the dazed, half-sleepy state she’d been lingering in since sunrise. “And perhaps also about your strange choices for sleeping location.” Some part of her brain had been telling her that she needed to get up and get ready for a big day of super-important stuff. The other part had decided that all of that stuff could wait a tiny bit longer. And then a tiny bit longer after that. And a little more after that. As if she’d found some sort of strange mental snooze button—which she was happy to keep hitting as long as it let her stay surrounded by baby alicorns and Calla’s soothing songs instead of having to face reality. And now her entire brain was telling her that the best solution to her current situation was to pull her blankets over her head and wait for Bronte to go away.

That’s not fair,” Sophie grumbled through a yawn. “Yeah, wow,” Keefe said, rubbing his eyes as he stumbled to his feet. “If I don’t go now, I’m going to be drooling on your desk—unless you need me to stay.” Sophie couldn’t tell if he was asking her or her physicians. Either way, she told him, “Go home, Keefe. You’ve been stuck here long enough.” He shook his head, studying her with sleepy eyes. “I’m never stuck with you, Foster. Someday I’m going to make you see that.” “Sounds like I’d better get Hunkyhair home,” Ro said, striding out of Sophie’s closet in a silky pink gown that somehow looked both right and wrong with her armor strapped on top of it. “I was bored,” Ro added when she noticed the way everyone was staring, like that explained her new fashion choices. “I’ll bring the dress back tomorrow.” “Keep it,” Sophie told her. “You… look really good.” Ro glanced down, sliding her hands across the shimmering skirt, then rolled her eyes and muttered something about sparkles going to her head.

Poland is a beautiful, heart-wrenching, soul-split country which in many ways (I came to see through Sophie’s eyes and memory that summer, and through my own eyes in later years) resembles or conjures up images of the American South—or at least the South of other, not-so-distant times. It is not alone that forlornly lovely, nostalgic landscape which creates the frequent likeness—the quagmiry but haunting monochrome of the Narew River swampland, for example, with its look and feel of a murky savanna on the Carolina coast, or the Sunday hush on a muddy back street in a village of Galicia, where by only the smallest eyewink of the imagination one might see whisked to a lonesome crossroads hamlet in Arkansas these ramshackle, weather-bleached little houses, crookedly carpentered, set upon shrubless plots of clay where scrawny chickens fuss and peck—but in the spirit of the nation, her indwellingly ravaged and melancholy heart, tormented into its shape like that of the Old South out of adversity, penury and defeat.

Mikolaj, I love you with all my heart. I promise, you’ll be the only man in the world to me. I’ll be your lover and your best friend. We’ll do the hard things and the fun things. We’ll make our choices together, for the good of us both. I’ll always put you before anything else, so that nothing can come between us.

I know why my dad hated it now. It looks like our Exillium necklaces, doesn’t it? That’s why my mom must’ve liked it. She knew I was meant to be the outcast. You keep trying to fix everything, Sophie. You even fixed Exillium. But you can’t fix me.” His eyes met hers then, and they held some sort of plea. He glanced to his left, and she followed his gaze, spotting the faintest trace of a light path, glinting out of the tiny crystal on the new bead he’d painted for her. “You understand, right?” Keefe asked. “No.” But she did. Sort of. Come with me, she transmitted. “I have to do this,” he said. “Please don’t hate me.” Their eyes met again and he nodded toward the faint trail of light he was still holding in place. Sophie swallowed hard, wishing there was something—anything—she could do to take him with her. But her only choice was to channel the full force of her mental strength and twist free of Fintan’s iron grasp. She fell toward the path, taking one last look at Keefe’s anguished face as the light he’d created for her pulled her away.

I think one of the worst mistakes we make is investing so much significance in details of our lives that don’t matter at all. We can just choose. It doesn’t matter all that much, and maybe there’s no wrong choice.

It’s clear it’d be smooth sailing for you if you were given Sophie’s choice,” Mag remarked.

the choice we have to make is the same choice we make in every moment of our lives. Are we going to hide in the dark and hope the challenge we’re facing goes away, or are we going to stand tall and live our lives with dignity and courage?

You’re anyone you choose to be. If you want to cling to the safety of being dull and ordinary, that’s your choice. But there’s a warrior inside you that is brave and powerful and capable of achieving anything. To unleash that power all you have to do is face your fears and do what needs to be done.

Funnily enough, I don’t mind buckling down to work, now that it’s a choice instead of a necessity.

Is it good to feel ensnared by a man? Probably not. This is probably sick and wrong on a hundred levels. But it’s powerful and real all the same. I can’t fight it. I don’t know if I even want to. All this time he’s been staring into my eyes, unblinking, infinitely patient. Waiting for me to make my choice. There’s no choice to make. It already happened, without me knowing it. He captured me, and there’s no letting go.

Josh and I are not friends. In fact, we’re direct rivals. The eldest of the firm partners is about to retire. When Victor Weiss leaves, either Josh or I will be the most likely choice to replace him. And we both know it. Even if we weren’t in competition for the partnership position, I’d still detest him. I’ve never liked the kind of person who pretends to be friendly while scavenging for information they can use to hurt you.

. we are who we are. You never wanted the crown, but it came to you. I never wanted to be a Bratva’s daughter, but I killed Rodion and I’d kill again if I had to. I want choice in my life . . . but I’m not afraid of the darker side of myself. I hated it when I thought I was split into two halves—good like my mother and evil like my father. Now I think . . . they’re both just me. And they always have been.” I thought something similar. I thought I was a good man until a switch flipped inside of me and the monster was unleashed.

. . we are who we are. You never wanted the crown, but it came to you. I never wanted to be a Bratva’s daughter, but I killed Rodion and I’d kill again if I had to. I want choice in my life . . . but I’m not afraid of the darker side of myself. I hated it when I thought I was split into two halves—good like my mother and evil like my father. Now I think . . . they’re both just me. And they always have been.” I thought something similar. I thought I was a good man until a switch flipped inside of me and the monster was unleashed. Now I wonder if Yelena is right, if she and I are simply a shade of gray. I wonder if we could be comfortable in a straight-edge life, law abiding and upstanding, never making use of that other part of ourselves.

My virginity is just one more tool in my father’s arsenal—something he’ll give away at a time of his choosing, to the man of his choice. I won’t have any say in the matter.

I miss that about those days—the freedom to want; the belief that our desires could never disappoint us, so long as we remained loyal to them; the sense that we could choose our fate, as though the absence of choice weren’t exactly what made it fate.

The cruelty of this life,’ Adele says, ‘is that we succumb to our fate and then we have to live with it, day after day after day. We’re sculpted by choices we often don’t have the liberty to make. Then we find ourselves shaped into something we never intended to be. You end up left with just the tiniest bit of yourself, something you hardly recognize.

Every choice sets the table. Sooner or later, we all sit down to a banquet of consequences.

I’ll call a cab and go to my car. I’ll sleep there for the night and figure out what to do in the light of day.” He’d started shaking his head about halfway through her proclamation and hadn’t stopped. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you sleep in a car abandoned in some ditch on the side of the highway?” She scowled, hackles rising. “There’s no letting me. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” I think. No, screw that. I know. “Hey,” he said, voice soft. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and, when she tried to yank away, held tight. “I know you can. You’ve already proven yourself.” Her frown deepening, she cast a suspicious glance in his direction. She was stuck in the middle of nowhere with no resources. Any idiot could see that. “I’ve proven nothing other than I can land myself in a huge mess.” One brow rose. “Oh? How long did you walk tonight? By yourself, in the dark?” “I didn’t have a choice, and I don’t have a choice now.” “There are always choices, Maddie. Don’t forget, you made a hell of a big one today.” “That doesn’t count,” she said, voice rising. Temper, temper, Maddie. She shook the voice away. “I know my options, and I’m going back to my car.” He studied her. Summing her up like the lawyer he used to be. “I don’t want to ask, but I’m going to anyway. Why don’t you want to call your family?” “Because I don’t want to.” The words shot out of her mouth, surprising her with their force. “What about friends?” Penelope and Sophie would walk through fire for her, but they weren’t an option, at least not tonight. “They’re probably at my mom’s house, consoling my family.” He scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Won’t they be worried?” “I’m sure they are,” she said. Her voice had taken on an edge that she hoped would pass for determined, but she feared that it bordered on petulance. “But I’m not calling them. I wrote a note and stole my own car from the parking lot, so it’s not like they’ll think I’ve been kidnapped.” “What did you do, hotwire the thing?” Amusement was plain in the deep tone of his voice. “If you must know, I have three extremely overprotective older brothers, a worrywart mother, and a . . .” She paused, trying out the words in her mind and deciding she wanted to own them. “. . . suffocating ex-fiancé. They insisted I have one of those industrial-strength, military-grade, combination-lock hideaway keys. My uncle brought my car to the church because his was in the shop. So really, it’s their fault this happened.” That was the moment she’d known she was going to run. Surrounded by the smell of gardenias that made her want to gag, she’d pushed her bridesmaids out the door, begging for a few minutes of peace and quiet. She’d gone over to the window, desperate for the smell of fresh air, and there sat her little Honda. The cherry red of the car had glowed in the sun like a gift from heaven. A sudden, almost reverent calm descended on her. It had felt like peace: a feeling so foreign to her that it had taken a moment to recognize it. Mitch laughed, pulling her away from those last minutes in the church and back to the temptation sitting next to her. “Princess, you really are something,” he said, still chuckling.

Do you suppose Valentine is happy?” Women. They were forever pondering the imponderables and expecting their menfolk to do likewise. “Valentine delights in his music, the Philharmonic is ever after him to give up his ruralizing and come to Town to rehearse them. One must conclude his rustic existence appeals to him.” Her Grace set the letter aside. “Or being up in Oxfordshire appeals to him, or his wife appeals to him. I think Ellen is yet shy of polite society.” If their youngest son ran true to Windham form, he was spending the winter keeping his new wife warm and cozy, and perhaps seeing to the next generation of the musical branch of the family. His Grace reached over and patted his wife’s hand. “We’ll squire her around next Season, put the ducal stamp of approval on Val’s choice.

I’m the worst possible choice for you right now.” “Dan,

Multiple Choice You hate it if I cry or raise my voice Or ever drop my customary tact. As you’re the boss, I’m giving you the choice – Please tell me how you’d like me to react. Should I (a) get used to being treated badly Or (b) just smile and act like nothing’s wrong? Should I (c) love everything about you madly Or (d) be glad you’ve stayed with me so long? Should I (e) switch off my mind and start undressing Or (f) fight back my feelings and be brave? Should I (g) accept the fact that life’s depressing Or (h) kneel down and be your willing slave? I’ll leave it up to you. Just pick a letter. If that one doesn’t work, we’ll try another. Gradually life should start to get much better For one of us at least, if not the other.

Pessimism for Beginners When you’re waiting for someone to e-mail, When you’re waiting for someone to call – Young or old, gay or straight, male or female – Don’t assume that they’re busy, that’s all. Don’t conclude that their letter went missing Or they must be away for a while; Think instead that they’re cursing and hissing – They’ve decided you’re venal and vile, That your eyes should be pecked by an eagle. Oh, to bash in your head with a stone! But since this is unfairly illegal They’ve no choice but to leave you alone. Be they friend, parent, sibling or lover Or your most stalwart colleague at work, Don’t pursue them. You’ll only discover That your once-irresistible quirk Is no longer appealing. Far from it. Everything that you are and you do Makes them spatter their basin with vomit. They loathe Hitler and herpes and you. Once you take this on board, life gets better. You give no one your hopes to destroy. The most cursory phone call or letter Makes you pickle your heart in pure joy. It’s so different from what you expected! They do not want to gouge out your eyes! You feel neither abused nor rejected What a stunning and perfect surprise. This approach I’m endorsing will net you A small portion of boundless delight. Keep believing the world’s out to get you. Now and then you might not be proved right.

(Google “Your Plan, Your Planet,” a fun interactive tool for wasting less food.)

The vast majority of the food we eat—75 percent—comes from a skimpy twelve types of plants and five species of animals. What a missed opportunity!

Not if I lock you in the dungeon. The palace has a really awesome one. And given your delicate elvin senses, I’m betting the smell would break you in less than a day. Face it, Funkyhair—you have two choices: You can cooperate, and still get to leave the house to see your friends occasionally. Or I can finally get out of sparkle town and take you back to Ravagog with me—and before you go getting too smiley, Miss F, don’t forget that you haven’t heard your side of this bargain. You don’t think I’d trade in my prizewinning dare for something easy, do you?” “What do you want?” Sophie asked, and her mind made a quick list of possible demands. But she definitely wasn’t expecting the ogre princess to plop back onto the chaise, pat the cushion next to her, and say, “I want you to tell Auntie Ro why you looked ready to spew all over the floor when I asked what’s been keeping you so busy lately.” “Seriously?” Sophie and Keefe both asked. “Why?” Sandor added. Ro shrugged. “Because I’m curious. And I enjoy meddling. It’s the only fun I get to have here in elf land, and I have a hunch that this is the kind of secret that could be a game changer.

Aside from not smoking cigarettes, according to the AICR, maintaining a healthy weight is the most effective thing you can do to protect against cancer. So,

Menu Amuse-Bouche Biscotte with a Caviar of Tomatoes and Strawberries Entrées Chilled Zucchini Basil and Mint Velouté Ou Pan-Seared Foie Gras served on Toast with Grilled Strawberries Plat Principal Gigot d'agneau, carved tableside Served with your choice of Pommes de Terre Sarladaise or Mille-Feuilles de Pommes de Terre Served with Greens and Lemon Garlic Shallot Vinaigrette and Multicolored Braised Baby Carrots Ou Lemon Chicken Tajine with Almonds and Prunes Served with Couscous and Seasonal Vegetables Ou Panko-Encrusted Filet de Limande Served with Wild Rice and Grilled Seasonal Vegetables Ou Quinoa, Avocado, and Sweet Potato Timbale (vegan) Served with Rosemary Potatoes

What should I get?” Raylan asks me, not bothering with the heavy leather menu and its array of choices spelled out in fancy scrolled print. “Do you like steak?” I say. “ ‘Course I do. What’s not to like?

Yes, but remember, happiness is often a choice. When you get up in the morning, it’s up to you to decide what you’re going to focus on – the good or the bad.

Edith will be terrified. I can’t imagine she actually wanted to marry the artist. She’s never shown the slightest interest in him. Papa gave her no choice.

That’s what the exercise is: you imagine that each choice goes amazingly well, and then you choose which of those ideal outcomes would be the most ideal.

If she’d had the choice, I wonder if she would she have swapped those four intense years with Dad for a lifetime with someone else, even if the intensity had to be diluted.

there's always a choice

I’ve found what I’ve spent my whole life looking for. A sister. And not just a sister: a Gemini twin. Not by blood, but by choice.

But I think we all know the hard choices we have to face for this cause. I mean, you don't just defeat a group of murderers with rainbows and candy.

La vie est une succession de choix difficiles, Sophie. La seule solution, c'est de les affronter l'un après l'autre.

may surprise you,’ he urged. Lily’s eyes no longer smiled. Now their licorice darkness reflected only bitterness. ‘It’s not a matter of me finding the courage, Jack. I know my parents. They won’t surprise me. They’re very predictable. They’re also traditional and as far as they’re concerned, I’m as good as engaged … no, married! And they approve of Jimmy.’ Her expression turned glum. ‘All that’s missing are the rings and the party.’ ‘Lily, risk their anger or whatever it is you’re not prepared to provoke but don’t do this.’ He stroked her cheek. ‘Forget me. I’m not important. I’m talking about the rest of your life, here. From what I can see of my friends and colleagues, marriage is hard enough without the kiss of death of not loving your partner.’ ‘It’s not his fault, Jack. You don’t understand. It’s complicated. And in his way, Jimmy is very charismatic.’ Jack didn’t know Professor James Chan, eminent physician and cranio-facial surgeon based at Whitechapel’s Royal London Hospital, but he already knew he didn’t much like him. Jack might be sleeping with Lily and loving every moment he could share with her, but James Chan had a claim on her and that pissed Jack off. Privately, he wanted to confront the doctor. Instead, he propped himself on one elbow and tried once more to reason with Lily. ‘It’s not complicated, actually. This isn’t medieval China or even medieval Britain. This is London 2005. And the fact is you’re happily seeing me … and you’re nearly thirty, Lily.’ He kept his voice light even though he felt like shaking her and cursing. ‘Are you asking me to make a choice?’ He shook his head. ‘No. I’m far more subtle. I’ve had my guys rig up a camera here. I think I should show your parents exactly what you’re doing when they think you’re comforting poor Sally. I’m particularly interested in hearing their thoughts on that rather curious thing you did to me on Tuesday.’ She gave a squeal and punched him, looking up to the ceiling, suddenly unsure. Jack laughed but grew serious again almost immediately. ‘Would it help if I —?’ Lily placed her fingertips on his mouth to hush him. She kissed him long and passionately before replying. ‘I know I shouldn’t be so answerable at my age but Mum and Dad are so traditional. I don’t choose to rub it in their face that I’m not a virgin. Nothing will help, my beautiful Jack. I will marry Jimmy Chan but we have a couple more weeks before I must accept his proposal. Let’s not waste it arguing and let’s not waste it on talk of love or longing. I know you loved the woman you knew as Sophie, Jack. I know you’ve been hiding from her memory ever since and, as much as I could love you, I am not permitted to because I’m spoken for and you aren’t ready to be in love again. This is not a happy-ever-after situation for us. I know you enjoy me and perhaps could love me but this is not the right moment for us to speak of anything but enjoying the time we have, because neither of us is available for anything beyond that.’ ‘You’re wrong, Lily.’ She smiled sadly and shook her head. ‘I have to go.’ Jack sighed. ‘I’ll drop you back.’ ‘No need,’ Lily said, moving from beneath the quilt, shivering as the cool air hit her naked body. ‘I have to pick up Alys from school. She’s very sharp and I don’t need her spotting you – especially as she’s had a crush on you since you first came into the flower shop.’ Suddenly she grinned. ‘If you hurry up, at least we can shower together!’ Jack leaped from the bed and dashed to the bathroom to turn on the taps. He could hear her laughing behind him but he felt sad. Two more weeks. It wasn’t fair – and then, as if the gods had decided to punish him further, his mobile rang, the ominous theme of Darth Vader telling him this was not a call he could ignore. He gave a groan. ‘Carry on without me,’ he called to Lily, reaching for the phone. ‘Hello, sir,’ he said, waiting for the inevitable apology

The people he arrested typically smelled like farts and deep, gut-wrenching bad life choices,

As I slid off my coat and pulled a hanger from the closet, I noticed Gracie glaring at me sanctimoniously. Gracie had an uncannily strong drunk detector for a nine-year-old cat, and her you stayed out past curfew face was something to behold. It told me she knew I'd had too much to drink on a Tuesday night and lied to my family about having a boyfriend. It also told me I should have been home to play with her hours ago. "Meow," Gracie lectured. I couldn't even be mad. "I deserve that," I agreed. "Meow," Gracie said again, with feeling. Okay, that was a bridge too far. "Look. I've had a really rough day." Part of me knew it was ridiculous to get into an argument with a cat. The rest of me needed Gracie to understand. Instead of understanding, Gracie chose to jump onto the kitchen counter where Sophie put my mail. Right there, on top of the spring issue of the University of Chicago alumni magazine and the new issue of Cat Fanciers was the wedding invitation Mom had said was coming. I looked helplessly at Gracie, who seemed to have given up on judging my life choices in favor of bathing her right front paw. "I don't want to open it," I told her. Instead of backing me up, Gracie signaled this conversation was over by jumping off the counter and sauntering over to my living room couch. One downside to having a nonhuman roommate was when I needed someone to validate me, I was usually out of luck.

Sometimes in life we say we don’t have a choice, but that’s not always true. We just don’t have a choice that wouldn’t hurt other people.

I was never raised to fall in love like this. Without reason or choice. Only wild, intense obsession. I never meant for this to happen. But now that it has, there’s no escaping. I belong to Dante. And he belongs to me.

Every story is a series of choices: what to include, what to leave out. Each selection or omission distorts the material.

At this juncture

Is Voro Motors Coupon Code 50SAVE Legit? Extra $50 OFF (Proven) Looking for a premium electric scooter that delivers performance, style, and reliability? Voro Motors is a top choice for riders who want speed, comfort, and thrill. With long-range batteries, powerful motors, and sleek designs, these scooters make every ride smooth and exciting. Using the Voro Motors Coupon Code 50SAVE gives you an Extra $50 OFF, making premium scooters more accessible than ever. Part 1: Why Riders Trust Voro Motors Voro Motors stands out with innovation and quality: Dual high-performance motors for smooth acceleration Batteries covering up to 70 miles per charge Durable frames for city streets and off-road trails Stylish designs that turn heads Riding a Voro Motors scooter isn’t just commuting—it’s an experience of freedom, excitement, and premium quality. Part 2: Popular Models to Consider Voro Motors caters to every type of rider: Kaabo Mantis Pro SE – agile, fast, great for off-road adventures EMOVE Cruiser V2 – long-range and smooth for city or leisure rides EMOVE RoadRunner V3 SE – versatile performance for all terrains EMOVE RoadRunner SE – lightweight and perfect for urban streets Quick Tip: Apply the Voro Motors Discount Code 50SAVE to save Extra $50 OFF on any scooter, including sale items. Part 3: Real Customer Reviews Customer feedback proves the value of Voro Motors: Jessica R., New York: “Kaabo Mantis Pro SE is amazing! Fast, reliable, and fun. 50SAVE saved me $50 instantly.” Mark T., Los Angeles: “EMOVE Cruiser V2 exceeded expectations. Great comfort and range.” Sophie L., Chicago: “Voro Motors scooters deliver style, performance, and durability.” These reviews highlight the trustworthiness and satisfaction riders experience. Part 4: How to Use the Discount Code Redeeming your Extra $50 OFF is simple: Browse scooters on the Voro Motors website Add your preferred model to the cart Enter 50SAVE in the coupon field Enjoy instant $50 savings Most models, including discounted scooters, accept the code for maximum value. Part 5: Performance Features That Impress Voro Motors scooters are engineered for thrill and comfort: Top speeds up to 40 mph Advanced suspension for smooth rides on varied terrain Regenerative braking to extend battery life Weather-resistant frames built for durability Whether commuting or exploring, every ride is safe, exciting, and premium. Even experts recommend models like Kaabo Mantis Pro SE and EMOVE Cruiser V2 for their balanced performance and reliability. Part 6: Why 50SAVE Is Worth It A $50 discount makes premium scooters more attainable. Using Voro Motors Promo Code 50SAVE: Access top-tier scooters at lower cost Combine with sale or refurbished items for extra value Apply to first-time or repeat orders Pro Tip: Pair the code with popular models for ultimate savings without compromising performance. Part 7: Frequently Asked Questions Q: Can 50SAVE be used on sale items? A: Yes, it applies to most scooters, including discounted models. Q: Are these scooters beginner-friendly? A: Yes. Adjustable speeds, ergonomic design, and anti-lock brakes make them safe for new riders. Q: How fast is shipping? A: Standard delivery is 3–7 business days. Some models qualify for free shipping. Q: Can I return a scooter if I’m not satisfied? A: Yes. Voro Motors offers a hassle-free return policy. Part 8: Maximize Your Savings Using Voro Motors Coupon Code 50SAVE ensures extra value on every purchase: Save instantly on any model Combine with sales or refurbished scooters Share with friends or family for collective savings Every ride becomes smoother, safer, and more thrilling, giving you premium quality at a smart price. Don’t miss the chance to unlock Extra $50 OFF with 50SAVE and enjoy a reliable, high-performance scooter today.

Latest Laura Mercier Discount Code DAVIDWABINZ Grants Extra 15% OFF Luxury meets accessibility with Laura Mercier, a brand celebrated for its flawless, natural-looking makeup that enhances your beauty effortlessly. Now, with the Latest Laura Mercier Discount Code DAVIDWABINZ, you can enjoy Extra 15% OFF, making premium products more attainable than ever. Here’s a focused, energetic review to guide your purchase and maximize your savings while experiencing the elegance and quality Laura Mercier offers. Part 1: Must-Have Laura Mercier Products Laura Mercier has built its reputation on products that deliver performance, versatility, and elegance. Some favorites include: Translucent Loose Setting Powder – sets makeup seamlessly with a silky finish Tinted Moisturizer Natural Skin Perfector – lightweight coverage with a natural glow Caviar Stick Eye Color – creamy, long-lasting eye definition Pure Canvas Primers – options for hydration, smoothing, or radiance Quick Tip: Use Laura Mercier Discount Code DAVIDWABINZ to instantly save Extra 15% OFF on any order, including already discounted favorites, letting you indulge in luxury without overspending. Part 2: Customer Experiences That Inspire Real reviews highlight why Laura Mercier remains a top choice: Olivia Peterson, Los Angeles: “The Translucent Powder completely transformed my makeup routine. Using the discount code made it easy to stock up on essentials.” Sophie Lambert, Paris: “Laura Mercier’s products feel luxurious every time I apply them. The savings encouraged me to try new shades and textures.” Natalie Huang, Singapore: “The Tinted Moisturizer gives perfect coverage without feeling heavy. The discount code makes high-end makeup truly accessible.” These authentic experiences show why many beauty enthusiasts actively look for a Laura Mercier Coupon Code DAVIDWABINZ. Part 3: How to Redeem the Discount Code Getting Extra 15% OFF is straightforward: Choose your favorite Laura Mercier products Add them to your shopping bag Apply the Laura Mercier Discount Code DAVIDWABINZ at checkout Enjoy immediate savings on high-quality beauty essentials This simple step ensures even best-selling products become more affordable, combining luxury and practicality. Part 4: Frequently Asked Questions Is the discount code reliable? Yes, it’s verified and provides guaranteed savings. Can it be used on top-selling items? Most popular products are eligible, including best-sellers. Can I use it more than once? Yes, it can be applied to repeat purchases to replenish your favorites. Does the offer last forever? No, it may expire, so using it promptly ensures you don’t miss out on extra savings. Part 5: Why You Should Grab This Offer Now Laura Mercier blends elegance, performance, and trusted quality in every product. The Latest Laura Mercier Discount Code DAVIDWABINZ makes premium makeup a smart, affordable indulgence. Whether you’re a first-time buyer or a loyal fan, this is the perfect opportunity to explore must-have products, enhance your beauty routine, and enjoy luxury at a discounted price. Don’t miss out on the chance to elevate your makeup collection while saving Extra 15% OFF.

Two people have to choose and be chosen, and, most unlikely of all, these choices must happen at roughly the same time.