“The French have a term for this brazenness: je m’en foutisme, the brave art of not giving a damn.”

“When people are in need, you must be present. When people suffer, you must let them know you’re suffering with them.” “The good side of bad acts?” I say. “I would not say that from horror comes goodness. That would be giving horror too much credit. But goodness prevails in spite of horror.”

“Survival requires a dose of madness—what cynics call “hoping against hope”—just like art does; you conjure your future from white space, locate the hidden person, yourself, against this unfamiliar background, peering through grief and loss at something greater. “Survivors are more urgently rooted in life than most of us,” observed one Holocaust expert. “Their will to survive is one with the thrust of life itself, as stubborn as the upsurge of spring. A strange exultation fills [their] soul, a sense of being equal to the worst.”

“joy is not just about being happy. Joy is a rigorous spiritual practice of saying yes to life on life’s terms”

“The French have a term for this brazenness: je m’en foutisme, the brave art of not giving a damn.”

“You go on with your life, because life goes on,” says Isabel. “You see this in anyone who has survived a traumatic situation. My own daughter died, for example.” Her only daughter, Paula Frias, died of porphyria in 1992 at the age of twenty-seven. “At first you think you can’t live with this,” says the author, who just turned sixty-five. “It’s just too much. Then life begins to take over. One morning you wake up and you want to eat chocolate. Or walk in the woods. Or open a bottle of wine. You get back up on your feet.” “When you can, right?” “You have no choice!” Isabel insists. “You cannot let the bullies keep you on the floor! I have been on my knees a thousand times, and I always get up.”

“joy is not just about being happy. Joy is a rigorous spiritual practice of saying yes to life on life’s terms,”