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Quote by Jodi Picoult

Work

My Sister's Keeper

This book delves into the story of a family facing profound challenges as a result of their daughter's medical condition. It raises questions about the rights of parents and the autonomy of children in the context of medical decisions. more

Author

Jodi Picoult
Jodi Picoult

Jodi Picoult is an American best-selling author known for her emotionally rich and engaging novels. Her works often revolve around family, legal, and moral dilemmas, and are highly appreciated by readers. more

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“We live liturgically, telling our sacred Story in worship and song. We fast and we feast. We marry and give our children in marriage, and though in exile, we work for the peace of the city. We welcome our newborns and bury our dead. We read the Bible and we tell our children about the saints. And we also tell them in the orchard and by the fireside about Odysseus, Achilles, and Aeneas, of Dante and Don Quixote, and Frodo and Gandalf and all the tales that bear what it means to be men and women of the West. We work, we pray, we confess our sins, we show mercy, we welcome the stranger, and we keep the commandments. When we suffer, especially for Christ's sake, we give thanks, because that is what Christians do. Who knows what God, in turn, will do with our faithfulness? It is not for us to say. Our command is, in the words of the Christian poet W.H. Auden, to "stagger onward rejoicing”

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“These people.... talked. All the time. And Malick especially. Bloody magpies, all of them, even Samin sometimes. Jacin couldn't understand it. Couldn't understand how they could just... say things, give them power through spoken words. Give him power by letting him hear them. Spilling life stories through random conversation, and they didn't even have the slightest idea who he was, let alone what he might do with it all. Letting parts of their lives just spew out their mouths like it didn't matter that it all gained strength with each breath. Hemorrhaging words. All of them. Didn't they know words were power? They all seemed like intelligent people--didn't they know that voicing the things inside you, letting another know, was handing that power over, betraying yourself, and if you betrayed yourself to the wrong person.... Maybe that was it--maybe none of them had ever shown another everything they had inside them and had it all turned back on them, used against them. That, he could understand. He'd been naive once too.”

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