The Choice

by Edith Eger

I sink into the words and the story and the feeling of being alone in a world with her.

what we call love is often something more conditional—the reward for a performance, what you settle for.

We can choose what the horror teaches us. To become bitter in our grief and fear. Hostile. Paralyzed. Or to hold on to the childlike part of us, the lively and curious part, the part that is innocent.

I can’t lose the feeling that I am guilty of something. That I will be found out.