The Giver Release Quotes

When I lift her, she wraps her legs around me and I carry her to an oversized chair. I fall back onto it and giver her bum a good slap, making her scream, "Hey!" I hush her complaint with another kiss, and pull her hips down against mine until she lets her head fall back and sinks into my lap perfectly. It's still our wedding night. She's all mine until the sun rises and it's time to release her back into the world. Until then, let the celebration continue.

For a contributing citizen to be released from the community was a final decision, a terrible punishment, an overwhelming statement of failure.

JONAS RECEIVER OF MEMORY Go immediately at the end of school hours each day to the Annex entrance behind the House of the Old and present yourself to the attendant. Go immediately to your dwelling at the conclusion of Training Hours each day. From this moment you are exempted from rules governing rudeness. You may ask any question of any citizen and you will receive answers. Do not discuss your training with any other member of the community, including parents and Elders. From this moment you are prohibited from dream-telling. Except for illness or injury unrelated to your training, do not apply for any medication. You are not permitted to apply for release. You may lie.

Fire is the voice of god, speaking in tongues. Fire is the liberator of water, slipping the earthly bonds. Fire is the memory of stone, being released to the heavens. Fire is the mother of the Earth, born of desire. Fire is the seducer of wind, dancing in abandon for its beloved. Fire is the illuminator, the protector, the destroyer, and the giver of all life.

Under the banner headline WILLIAMS CHARGED IN SLAYING, the story was very brief. It said that at 3:00 A.M., police had been summoned to Mercer House, where they found Danny Hansford, twenty-one, lying dead on the floor in the study, his blood pouring out onto an oriental carpet. He had been shot in the head and chest. There were two pistols at the scene. Several objects in the house had been broken. Williams had been taken into custody, charged with murder, and held on $25,000 bond. Fifteen minutes later, a friend of Williams had arrived at police headquarters with a paper bag containing 250 one-hundred-dollar bills, and Williams was released. That was all the newspaper said about the shooting. Williams was identified as an antiques dealer, a restorer of historic houses, and a giver of elegant parties at his “showplace” home, which Jacqueline Onassis had visited and offered to buy for $2 million. About Danny Hansford, the paper gave no information other than his age

Release was not the same as Loss.

a contributing citizen to be released from the community was a final decision, a terrible punishment, an overwhelming statement of failure.

occasions of release which were not punishment. Release of the elderly, which was a time of celebration for a life well and fully lived; and release of a newchild, which always brought a sense of what-could-we-have-done.

Two people, locked safely inside, briefly released from their complicated histories, and the weighty expectations of the town around them, ate good food, and laughed. ... And while there was barely a touch between them, apart from the accidental brushing of skin against skin, while passing bread or refiling a glass, [she] rediscovered a little part of her that she hadn't known she'd missed. The flirtatious young woman who liked to talk about things she had read, seen, and thought about, as much as she liked to ride a mountain track. In turn, [he] enjoyed a woman's full attention. A ready laugh at his jokes, and the challenge of an idea that might differ from his own. Time flew. And each ended the night full and happy with the rare glow that comes from knowing your very being has been understood by somebody else. And that there might just be someone out there, who will only ever see the best in you.

There were only two occasions of release which were not punishment. Release of the elderly, which was a time of celebration for a life well and fully lived; and release of a newchild, which always brought a sense of what-could-we-have-done. This was especially troubling for the Nurturers, like Father, who felt they had failed somehow. But it happened very rarely.

Was there someone there, waiting, who would receive the tiny released twin? Would it grow up Elsewhere, not knowing, ever, that in this community lived a being who looked exactly the same? For a moment, he felt a tiny, fluttering hope that he knew was quite foolish. He hoped that it would be Larissa, waiting. Larissa, the old woman he had bathed. He remembered her sparkling eyes, her soft voice, her low chuckle. Fiona had told him recently that Larissa had been released at a wonderful ceremony.

Only your friend?” He narrowed his eyes at the target, his pressed lips causing a line to crease in his cheek. “I think I deserve a better title than that.” “Like what?” I asked, looking at him askance. “Oh, I don’t know.” He released his arrow. Another solid hit, right on target. “Perhaps The Giver of My Heart’s Desire?” An outraged laugh burst from me. “The Giver of My Heart’s Desire?” A smile crept across his lips. “I will never call you that,” I said, picking up another arrow. “Why not? I earned it. I think you should call me by that title every time you see me.

and she asked to be released.

needless to say, he will be released,

Instead he said, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I shall return there . . . Blessed be the Name of the LORD” (Job 1:21). That says it all. At birth we all arrived naked. At death we will all leave naked, as we’re prepared for burial. We have nothing as we are birthed; we have nothing as we depart. So everything we have in between is provided for us by the Giver of Life. Get that clearly in your mind. Get it, affluent Americans as we are. Get it when you stroll through your house and see all those wonderful belongings. Get it when you open the door and slip behind the steering wheel of your car. It’s all on loan, every bit of it. Get it when the business falls and fails. It, too, was on loan. When the stocks rise, all that profit is on loan. Face it squarely. You and I arrived in a tiny, naked body (and a not a great-looking one at that!). And what will we have when we depart? A naked body plus a lot of wrinkles. You take nothing because you brought nothing! You own nothing. What a grand revelation. Are you ready to accept it? You don’t even own your children. They’re God’s children, on loan for you to take care of, rear, nurture, love, discipline, encourage, affirm, and then release.

Jonas, listening, thought suddenly about the bridge and how, standing there, he had wondered what lay Elsewhere. Was there someone there, waiting, who would receive the tiny released twin? Would it grow up Elsewhere, not knowing, ever, that in this community lives a being who looked exactly the same?

There were only two occasions of release which were not punishment. Release of the elderly, which was a time of celebration for a life well and fully lived; and release of a newchild, which always brought a sense of what-could-we-have-done.

Clydinius believed Fae were not worthy of the greatness we gifted them, for it was wasted and spoiled in the hands of your kind, every empire rising only to surely fall. So Clydinius came to the Court of Caelestina where the fates are woven thread by thread, and destiny spins upon a coin of iron. There, he spoke treasonous words, expressing the very desire which could unbalance the bedrock of the world. Clydinius wished for us all to descend from the heavens, to claim a place upon the earth and walk among the Fae as gods. In response to this declaration, Arcturus of the Sixth House cast Clydinius from the sky, where only one fate awaited him. Or so we thought. For we were fooled… Clydinius had wished for this all along, and instead of releasing his powers upon impact with the earth, Clydinius made a deal with a Fae, breaking all the laws of old and blaspheming against the teachings of the Origin.” “The Origin?” Tory questioned. “The Origin is the beginning and end of all things. She is the giver of life, of fate, of all reality. She is the oldest star in our universe, a creator and destroyer. She set the laws of reality itself.

Maya Angelou has said, “giving liberates the soul of the giver.” Choosing connection, community, and friendship over the exhausting self-defeat of perfectionism, I do feel alive, released at last from the familiar, well-worn territory of my own needs and fears. And I begin, all over again, to recover a sense of myself, simply by giving of myself.

Rave used to think tears meant weakness. But they didn’t. They were a release, helping you let go of the should have been. Helping you process the what was. Each tear was a memorial. And once they were shed, the giver understood that life could be harsh, even cruel, but it didn’t have to break you. Rave wasn’t ashamed of tears. They were a badge that said you were strong enough to rise above your circumstances. He no longer associated them with weakness.

Needless to say, he will be released, the voice had said,

IT WAS ALMOST December, and Jonas was beginning to be frightened. No. Wrong word, Jonas thought. Frightened meant that deep, sickening feeling of something terrible about to happen. Frightened was the way he had felt a year ago when an unidentified aircraft had overflown the community twice. He had seen it both times. Squinting toward the sky, he had seen the sleek jet, almost a blur at its high speed, go past, and a second later heard the blast of sound that followed. Then one more time, a moment later, from the opposite direction, the same plane. At first, he had been only fascinated. He had never seen aircraft so close, for it was against the rules for Pilots to fly over the community. Occasionally, when supplies were delivered by cargo planes to the landing field across the river, the children rode their bicycles to the riverbank and watched, intrigued, the unloading and then the takeoff directed to the west, always away from the community. But the aircraft a year ago had been different. It was not a squat, fat-bellied cargo plane but a needle-nosed single-pilot jet. Jonas, looking around anxiously, had seen others—adults as well as children—stop what they were doing and wait, confused, for an explanation of the frightening event. Then all of the citizens had been ordered to go into the nearest building and stay there. IMMEDIATELY, the rasping voice through the speakers had said. LEAVE YOUR BICYCLES WHERE THEY ARE. Instantly, obediently, Jonas had dropped his bike on its side on the path behind his family’s dwelling. He had run indoors and stayed there, alone. His parents were both at work, and his little sister, Lily, was at the Childcare Center where she spent her after-school hours. Looking through the front window, he had seen no people: none of the busy afternoon crew of Street Cleaners, Landscape Workers, and Food Delivery people who usually populated the community at that time of day. He saw only the abandoned bikes here and there on their sides; an upturned wheel on one was still revolving slowly. He had been frightened then. The sense of his own community silent, waiting, had made his stomach churn. He had trembled. But it had been nothing. Within minutes the speakers had crackled again, and the voice, reassuring now and less urgent, had explained that a Pilot-in-Training had misread his navigational instructions and made a wrong turn. Desperately the Pilot had been trying to make his way back before his error was noticed. NEEDLESS TO SAY, HE WILL BE RELEASED, the voice had said, followed by silence. There was an ironic tone to that final message, as if the Speaker found it amusing; and Jonas had smiled a little, though he knew what a grim statement it had been. For a contributing citizen to be released from the community was a final decision, a terrible punishment, an overwhelming statement of failure.

Some worry that women can't be truly feminine if they use the ministry gifts. But God is the giver of their femininity as well as whatever gifts He places within them. He wouldn't contradict one of His gifts with another. Neither will a woman obeying God threaten the masculinity of men who are also surrendered to Christ. A real man is able to release women into public ministry. A man of God doesn't fear man; he fears the Lord. Submission to God is the ultimate strength. I have found that the more people I release into ministry, including women, God releases me.

Alison Wood Brooks, an associate professor at Harvard Business School, had a different notion of how to handle nervousness. In a series of three studies, she subjected groups of people to experiences that most everyone would find nerve-racking: completing “a very difficult IQ test” administered “under time pressure”; delivering, on the spot, “a persuasive public speech about ‘why you are a good work partner’ ”; and most excruciating of all, belting out an 80s pop song (“Don’t Stop Believin’,” by Journey). Before beginning the activity, participants were to direct themselves to stay calm, or to tell themselves that they were excited. Reappraising nervousness as excitement yielded a noticeable difference in performance. The IQ test takers scored significantly higher. The speech givers came across as more persuasive, competent, and confident. Even the singers performed more passably (as judged by the Nintendo Wii Karaoke Revolution program they used). All reported genuinely feeling the pleasurable emotion of excitement—a remarkable shift away from the unpleasant discomfort such activities might be expected to engender. In a similar fashion, we can choose to reappraise debilitating “stress” as productive “coping.” A 2010 study carried out with Boston-area undergraduates looked at what happens when people facing a stressful experience are informed about the positive effects of stress on our thinking—that is, the way it can make us more alert and more motivated. Before taking the GRE, the admissions exam for graduate school, one group of students was given the following message to read: “People think that feeling anxious while taking a standardized test will make them do poorly on the test. However, recent research suggests that arousal doesn’t hurt performance on these tests and can even help performance. People who feel anxious during a test might actually do better. This means that you shouldn’t feel concerned if you do feel anxious while taking today’s GRE test. If you find yourself feeling anxious, simply remind yourself that your arousal could be helping you do well.” A second group received no such message before taking the exam. Three months later, when the students’ GRE scores were released, the students who had been encouraged to reappraise their feelings of stress scored an average of 65 points higher.

First, articulate the kernel segments for which you don’t have a thoughtful point of view. Just knowing what you don’t know gives you permission for that confidence about the things that you do know, and in the process allows you be honest about what you don’t know. Heck, just whip out the list when a client asks a question about anything on it. They are fine with advice-givers who are human, and merely saying “no” from time to time can give real meaning to your “yes” statements. “Honestly, I’ve been asking that same question and I don’t think I have it figured out yet. [Reaching down] Here are my notes so far, and this will provide that opportunity to finally figure it out. Any thoughts along the way would be welcome. Thanks.” Second, determine all the methods that would motivate you, as a unique individual, to develop a given position. This might include a public speaking engagement, a repeatable section to include in proposals, an article you can place for publication, an interview with a journalist seeking expertise, a seminar you will teach, some internal training to prepare for, or a handout to be used at predictable conversation intersections when talking to clients in person. Third, group the topics by platform, order the topics in each group by descending level of importance, and assign a date to each item. About that: You cannot fully explore one of these topics and then craft the language to present it in less than two weeks; typically it requires a month or two. Fourth, ignite the research (less than you’ll guess) and insight generation (more than you’ll guess) by articulating a compressed 2,400–3,600 words for each topic. Fifth, begin what academia calls the peer review process. Release it to the brutal public for feedback, disagreement, and “this strikes me as right” commentary. If nobody reads your blog, that’s like winning a race with no opponents; you can just skip that and cast it far and wide instead. Email it to everyone not already tired of you and wait. Or just let that one cynical employee eagerly make you wince as they’ve always dreamed of doing. Sixth, over the following years, strip out what later seems like filler and replace it with more substance. Work on it long enough each time to make it shorter and shorter.