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Quote by Bodhisattva Shree Swami Premodaya

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Bodhisattva Shree Swami Premodaya

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“For a moment, the world moved in slow motion. Becca and Lars tumbling through the air, arcing towards the balcony platform from the force of Lar’s running start off the top of the turret. Becca was over Lars, then under him, then over again as they descended. She couldn’t see anything but Lar’s face smiling at her; then someone grabbed her arm and yanked her away as Lars continued to fall into the gap.”

“The Death Eaters were waiting for us,” Harry told her. “We were surrounded the moment we took off — they knew it was tonight — I don’t know what happened to anyone else, four of them chased us, it was all we could do to get away, and then Voldemort caught up with us —” He could hear the self-justifying note in his voice, the plea for her to understand why he did not know what had happened to her sons, but — “Thank goodness you’re all right,” she said, pulling him into a hug he did not feel he deserved. “Haven’t go’ any brandy, have yeh, Molly?” asked Hagrid a little shakily. “Fer medicinal purposes?” She could have summoned it by magic, but as she hurried back toward the crooked house, Harry knew that she wanted to hide her face.”

“Still, I insisted that I was as entitled to a Survivor's Syndrome as my father, so she asked me two questions. The first one was this: "Do you believe sometimes that you are a good person in a world where almost all of the other good people are dead?" "No," I said. "Do you sometimes believe that you must be wicked, since all the good people are dead, and that the only way to clear your name is to be dead, too?" "No," I said. "You may be entitled to the Survivor's Syndrome, but you didn't get it," she said. "Would you like to try for tuberculosis instead?”

“The closest my generation will ever come to the spirit of the original Woodstock was September 12th, 2001. For a few weeks, we believed that we were integral members of the brotherhood of Man. It didn't matter who our neighbors were (aside from a few isolated cases of the paranoia-induced beatings of Sikh children). We wanted to make sure they were holding up so that we could feel that they wanted to know the same about us. We needed a national tragedy beyond our reckoning to shake us loose from the mundane, a trip far more heinous than anything the infamous brown acid would have given us. Woodstock existed for people on the brink of seeing what life meant. September 12th was in acknowledgment for how that life could end, and the almost guilty thrill that we made it through.”