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Quote by Dietrich Bonhoeffer

“Most people have forgotten nowadays what a house can mean, though some of us have come to realize it as never before. It is a kingdom of its own in the midst of the world, a stronghold amid life’s storms and stresses, a refuge, even a sanctuary.” — Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison”

Quote by Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Work

Letters and Papers from Prison

This compilation includes correspondence and written works that offer insights into the thoughts and experiences of an individual during their time in prison. more

Author

Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Dietrich Bonhoeffer

German pastor, theologian, philosopher, and member of the resistance against the Nazis. Born on February 4, 1906, in Germany, he was executed on April 9, 1945 in a concentration camp. more

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“When did I lose that natural sense of accomplishment that came with everyday tasks? Was it upon the birth of baby number two, three, or four? Or did I retain it even through my sixth pregnancy, when I bleached everything in sight, washing my cotton nightgown so frequently that the bright bluebell pattern faded to a dull gray? To this day, I can recall the fresh scent of the bleached and sun-dried gown and bedsheets. It wasn’t until I’d gotten through a difficult labor and delivery, and my head hit the hospital pillow, that I realized I’d attempted to replicate the smell of hospital linens—the one place I was able to get some rest.”

“The sparks winked, bright blue and brilliant white, the gentle ripples of the canal becoming by turns rich purple, pale pearl, and inky black under the not-yet-morning sky. The water was suffused with a final luminescence before his blue sparks drowned. Magnus slid his fingers gently through Alec’s wild, soft hair, and felt Alec’s head turn toward him a little in half sleep. He heard Malcolm singing and remembered again his words from long ago. I do not ever want another love.”

“Dusk settled over our shoulders like a damp purple blanket. The river- the churn and clank of boat traffic, the shush of water, and the tangy smell of catfish and mud- was slowly beaten back by honeysuckle and cicadas and some bird that cooed the same three syllables in a lilting circle. It was all so familiar and so foreign. I pictured a young girl in a blue cotton dress running down this same road on cinnamon-stick legs. Then I pictured another girl, white and square-jawed, running before her. Adelaide. Mother. I would've missed it if I hadn't been looking: a narrow dirt drive crowded on either side by briars and untrimmed boughs. Even once I'd followed the track to its end I was uncertain- who would live in such a huddled, bent-back cabin, half-eaten by ivy and some sort of feral climbing rose? The wooden-shake shingles were green with moss; the barn had collapsed entirely.”

“I used to wonder- at night when it was quiet enough in the cabin to think, when I let myself get to the point of wishing for home- if the home in my heart was supposed to be the place where I'd been born, or if it was the place that was raising me. If I got to choose it, or if it had somehow already claimed me. The truth was, when I looked at my reflection in the window, I couldn't see any bit of the Ruby that had lived in a little white house at the end of a lane, honey sticking to her fingers and hair falling from her braids. And it made me feel empty in a way- like I had forgotten the words to my favorite song. That girl was gone forever, and all that was left was a product of the place that had taught her to fear the bright things inside of her heart.”