Thank God it's Sunday. I love the Sunday grey as much as I love the Sunday sun. The sky looks like it hasn't made up its mind about whether to rain or shine.
Today I'll thank 30 or more authors and their books for enriching my life:
Thanks to Benjamin Hoff and A.A. Milne for the Tao of Pooh and the original which remind me of innocence. Thanks to Sögyal Rinpoche for the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying which helped me through the valley of death. Thanks to Redfield's Celestine Prophecy that jumped off a bookshelf at me in Geneva, for Lao Tsu's Tao which I read over and over again, to Hafiz for soul inspiration, to Khalil Gibran for the same, to Eckhart Tolle for The Power of Now and A New Earth, to Louise Hay for her books on healing, to Prof Steinhausen for his child and adolescent texts, and to Frau von Aster for her book on playing.
To Barbara Cartland for scores of historical romances, to Sara Craven for happy Mills and Boons days, to Liane Gentry Skye and Saranna de Wilde on Textnovel, to Stephenie Meyer for superior heart and soul writing. To Agatha Christie for a world of mystery, to Tess Gerritson for the thrills, to Steven King for chills, to Tolkien for hobbits and rings, to Charles Dickens for most of his things. Thanks to Rainer Maria Rilke, to Erich Kästner, to Goethe and Shakespeare, too. Andrew Davidson's Gargoyle was an unexpected treat, David Burns guided my therapy interventions with Feeling Good. Gabriel Garzia Marquez, Miguel Cervantes, and Jorge Luis Borges formed my Spanish literature backbone. That's already 30 and I can still go on. But I'll close with thanks to David, Ruth, Solomon and John, as well as Mark, Matthew, and Luke and all the rest who wrote and rewrote the Bible with some of the greatest lessons I've ever heard.
It seems a good book to end with on a Sunday. The thank count is 147.
Die Bücher, die mein Lebenspfad informiert haben sind ein wichtiger Teil meines Daseins. Ich bin dankbar für all die Autoren, die sie geschrieben haben. Einen frohen 2. Advent!
