Real magic can never be made by offering someone else's liver. You must tear out your own, and not expect to get it back.
Peter S. BeagleRead
...because in a way it happened to someone else. I don't really speak that person's language anymore, and when I think about her, she embarrasses me sometimes, but I don't want to forget her, I don't want to pretend she never existed. So before I start forgetting, I have to get down exactly who she was, and exactly how she felt about everything. She was me a lot longer than I've been me so far.
Interpretation
The quote reflects on the struggle of identity and memory, emphasizing the importance of recognizing and understanding one's past self.
In this quote, Peter S. Beagle explores the complexity of self-identity and the often painful process of remembering who we once were. It highlights a tension between our current self and our past selves, acknowledging that while we may feel disconnected from our previous identity, it is crucial to honor and understand that part of ourselves to fully appreciate our personal journey.
In practice
In a personal growth workshop, to illustrate the importance of acknowledging past experiences.
Real magic can never be made by offering someone else's liver. You must tear out your own, and not expect to get it back.
Your name is a golden bell hung in my heart. I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name.
You were the one who taught me," he said. "I never looked at you without seeing the sweetness of the way the world goes together, or without sorrow for its spoiling. I became a hero to serve you, and all that is like you.
Whatever can die is beautiful — more beautiful than a unicorn, who lives forever, and who is the most beautiful creature in the world. Do you understand me?
I feel a whole country growing inside me, thousands of years, millions of people, stupid, crazy, shrewd people, and all of them me. I never felt like that before, I never felt that there was anything inside me, even myself.
Great heroes need great sorrows and burdens, or half their greatness goes unnoticed. It is all part of the fairy tale.
If you want to study the social and political history of modern nations, study hell.
Hope is the only good that is common to all men; those who have nothing else possess hope still.
Childhood is the world of miracle and wonder; as if creation rose, bathed in the light, out of the darkness, utterly new and fresh and astonishing. The end of childhood is when things cease to astonish us.
Before me, even as behind, God is, and all is well.
What happens then is like what happens when we separate a jigsaw puzzle into its fuve hundred pieces: The over-all picture disappears. This is the state of modern medicine: It has lost the sense of the unity of man. Such is the price it has paid for its scientific progress. It has sacrificed art to science.
Heaven is always and forever around us and no soul remembered is ever really gone.
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