Bokelskere.no

"Det betyr at hver og en av oss er verdifulle her i livet, uansett hva andre gjør mot oss."

Too often truth ain’t in what’s right, Lucy girl—sometimes it’s in who speaks it. Or writes it.

Knoppene på rohododendron-buskene ligner en tryllekunstners lukkede hånd før han åpner den for publikum.

In a 1953 cold war experiment, the Army sprayed clouds of toxic
material over Minneapolis dozens of times
and may have caused miscarriages and still-births,
a public television station here has reported.

The sprayings in Minneapolis and other cities were described then
as part of an effort 'to develop an aerosol screen to protect
Americans from fallout in case of an atomic attack' …
The material sprayed in Minneapolis was zinc cadmium sulfide,
a carcinogen, and the Army was actually testing how chemicals
would disperse during biological warfare,
the station reported.

One of the sites sprayed in Minneapolis was a public elementary
school where former students have reported an unusual number of
stillbirths and miscarriages .…

In its report, the station quoted experts as saying zinc cadmium
sulfide was toxic and might cause cancer.
It said it was sprayed 61 times in four parts of Minneapolis,
from generators in the rear of trucks or from rooftops.

One former student of the sprayed school told the station that
of her three children, one had Down's syndrome, another was
profoundly retarded and a third had a learning disability."

This was all done in the cause of Chemical and Bacteriological
Warfare.
We've read about its existence.
It appears in the news every once in a while. The Soviets were
said to possess a nightmarish capacity. President Nixon made
headlines around the world when he announced he would seek a ban
on it. (Nothing happened.)

It made big headlines when herds of sheep mysteriously fell over
dead in their fields near the Army's secretive CAB lab at Dugway,
Utah. The Army, of course, lied through its teeth and denied any
knowledge of what might have happened,
but the public discovered years later that the wind changed
on a day when they were testing one of their deadly airborne
toxins.

Jeg husker så lite fra barndommen, men det at mamma ofte satt og leste husker jeg tydelig.

Tross den sparsommelige skildringen i Bibelen får jeg følelsen av at Tomas’ kamp ikke bare handler om å tro, men om ikke riktig å høre til. Det er sårt å ikke finne sin plass. Alle som har opplevd det, vet hvor vondt det gjør. I slik ensomhet krymper man raskt.

Å bli frarøvet forutsetningene for vekst er å forminskes, man visner som buskene i utkanten av hagen til naboene våre. Ofte fører det til at man anklager seg selv og blir opptatt av tilkortkommenhetene sine. Med tiden tærer det på både selvtilliten og tilliten. Den verste smerten i tilværelsen er å bli forlatt. Det er derfor det er så risikabelt å elske.

KJÆRTEGN

Skal jorden få
de døde?
Ofte så jeg dem
vandre under lys og skyer

og de var søsken av lys og skyer,
si ikke
jorden kan få dem, jeg tror
de vender seg til lyset

jeg har sett sollys
på menneskers ansikter mens de
ikke merket det, mens de
holdt på med sitt, jeg har sett
lyset kjærtegne dem.

(Tove Lie)

«Hvilken nytte har vi av grenselinjer trukket med blod gjennom Guds skaperverk?»

Savn var et tomrom som ikke kom til å fylles. Tynget av sorg, sa man, men hvor mye veide et tomrom? Tvert imot kunne sorgen gjøre en farlig lett, uten noen tyngde i livet.

Men når jeg satt og så på skoene mine i dette fremmede rommet, var det som om de ga forstanden min hvile. Det var et par tomme sko riktignok, men de var mine og deres tomhet var formet av meg.

Torgeir Scherven

"There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
"

“Everyone lies about their lives.
What would happen if you shared the truth instead?
The one thing that defines you, makes everything
else about you fall into place?
Not on the internet, but with those real people around you?"

_

"a reminder that you have only one life,
and to live it plainly."

This was a breath of fresh air. A unique premise and some characters
that you couldn't help but root for.

So The Authenticity Project, what is it?
Well, Julian is an elderly man who has kept to himself for a very long time.
He thinks people aren't honest with one another so he decides
to write the truth about himself in a green notebook
and he leaves it in a local cafe for someone to find.

The owner of the cafe, Monica, comes across the notebook and decides
to write about some of the things she is most vulnerable about
in her life and then she leaves the notebook in a bar
so another person can have their chance to spill their guts.
And eventually some of the people who have written in the notebook
get a chance to meet, and you'll just have to read the book
to find out what happens next.

The plot might seem a bit far-fetched but it does work for the most part
in the story.
You just kinda have to go with the idea that some people aren't concerned
about their privacy and make it fairly easy for the next reader
of the notebook to figure out their identity.

And sometimes in life it is good to take chances because it can lead you
in a more positive direction.
I think most of us at the core are decent human beings who enjoy helping
others and I loved seeing that play out in this book
with all of these strangers coming together and looking out for one another.

recommend it to anyone looking to read something that has heart
and also restores your faith in humanity just a tad.

( fra omtaler )

Hun sier ikke mer den dagen, eller kvelden. Det er som om hun beveger seg inni en boble, en koking, og denne kokongen forhindrer henne fra å snakke, å kunne, å smile, å forholde seg til verdenen slik den er, i all sin prakt, for den verdenen forstår hun plutselig ikke noe av, den er snudd opp ned, har mistet sitt tyngdepunkt, og da er det tross alt bedre å befinne seg der inne, bak de ensfargede veggene ev av denne kveldene kokongen, enn ute i en verden som ikke lenger gir noen mening

Quotes:
"Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direkction but the sandstorm chaes you. You turn again, but the storm adjust....why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away..This storm is you.Something inside you. ..
But one thing is certian. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm is all about.

"You can never put it back together like it was"

"Every one of us is losing something precious to us. Lost opportunities, lost possibilites, fellings we can never get back again. That's the part of what it means to be alive. But inside our heads at least that where I imagine it - there's a little room where we store those memories. A room like the stacks in this library. And to understand the workings of our own hearts we have to keep on making new reference cards. We have to dust things off every once in a while, let in fresh air, change the water in the flower vases. In other words, you'll live forever in your own private library"

Silence is something you can actually hear

Den tanke som beroliget ham, var ikke ny. Så lenge verden har bestått, har mennesker sendt andre i døden og beroliget seg selv med at det var nødvendig for samfundets beste. Det menneske som er i stand til å tenke uhildet, vil aldri innbille seg at han vet hvori dette "samfundets beste" består; men den som forbrytersk lar sine medmennesker drepe, han er aldri i tvil om hvori det består.

Livet er nytt for oss alle, for hver enkelt av oss. Vi blir ikke vant til det. Det gjelder ikke bare for individene, men også for artene. Vi er utkast, skisser, ufullstendige forsøk. Og når mennesker kjenner seg igjen i andre dyr eller fugler, ser vi kanskje noe som overskrider det bitte lille bildet vi har av oss selv.

Sødmen i dette.

Godhet finnes, medfølelse og solidaritet er lett å observere for eksempel hos elefanter, aper, fugler. Noen ganger også hos mennesker.

Mens vi leser, holder vi sidene ganske stille, og det ser ut som om vi sitter og flyr. Og det gjør vi, hver gang vi leser. Vi flyr.

men borte er bare et navn
på alle andre steder enn dette

lønneblader: store som voksne hender samler de lys