I mean, it's like we all get our raw materials from our families―but it's up to us whether we build bridges or bombs.
Neal ShustermanRead
Which is worse, Risa often wondered, to have tens of thousands of babies that no one wanted or to silently make then go away before they were even born
Interpretation
This quote reflects on the moral dilemma of existence and the value of human life before it's fully realized.
In this quote, Neal Shusterman explores the ethical implications of existence and choice regarding life. It poses a profound question about the ramifications of bringing life into the world and the moral burden of unwanted lives, suggesting a deep internal conflict about the value and recognition of those lives before they have a chance to exist fully.
In practice
In a panel discussion on ethical dilemmas in medicine, this quote could be cited to emphasize the gravity of making choices about life.
I mean, it's like we all get our raw materials from our families―but it's up to us whether we build bridges or bombs.
Either things happen for a reason, or they happen for no reason at all. Either one's life is a thread in a glorious tapestry or humanity is just a hopelessly tangled knot.
Unwinds didn't go out with a bang-they didn't even go out with a whimper. they went out with the silence of a candle flame pinched between two fingers.
She smiles at them as they go by and continues to play, making it clear that this furnace of a place, full of planes that cannot fly, is more than it seems. It is a womb of redemption for every Unwind, and fora ll those who fought the Heartland War and lost - which was everybody.
Words don't hurt you." Which is one of the hugest criminal lies perpetrated by adults against children in this world. Because words hurt more than any physical pain.
They say you never know who's the real hero and who's the real coward until you're looking death in the face. I've always been afraid of plenty of things, but fear isn't what makes you a coward. It's how depraved your heart becomes when fear gets pumped through it.
I think the tragic feeling is invoked in us when we are in the presence of a character who is ready to lay down his life, if need be, to secure one thing -- his sense of personal dignity.
Part of the function of memory is to forget; the omni-retentive mind will break down and produce at best an idiot savant who can recite a telephone book, and at worst a person to whom every grudge and slight is as yesterday's.
But it does make me sad that we've forgotten our names. Out of everything, this seems to me the most tragic. I miss my own and I mourn for everyone else's, because I'd like to love them, but I don't know who they are.
God himself does not give answers. He gives himself.
I want to be identified with the negro; until he gets his rights, we shall never have ours.
Everyone must believe in something. I believe I'll go canoeing.
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