Books have the awesome power to transform, engage and inspire.
Three years ago, my sister Sarah invited me to join her on the The Book Dialogue Podcast. Over the years, books have been a topic of conversation whenever we get together. She reminded me that it happens to all of us. Some time in our life we come to know that we will never read all the books that are on our “to read” shelves.
The Book Dialogue is dedicated to expanding our reading capacity by viewing books through the lens of other readers. Two Sisters, two viewpoints leads to interesting outcomes. This is our unscripted discussions on books, poetry, and philosophy!
We invite you to join the conversation.
My name is Sarah and I’m so glad that you joined me today. The Book Dialogue is an exploration of poetry and books, philosophy, and all the things in life that happen and occur in and around us. We have wonderful conversations, and I would love you to be able to join us in the conversation.
We invite you to follow us on thebookdialogue.com or thebookdialogue.ca. As my sister is fond of saying, we like to think that we’re everywhere. So, join us in that everywhere and share what are you reading, what poem strikes your heart. We want to hear from you!
Today, I will be reciting a poem by Henry Lawson. His words are a powerful reminder of how we must reach out beyond ourselves to ensure that we don’t take people at surface value. But to look beneath that façade they wear to see the heart.
The Things We Dare Not Tell
The fields are fair in autumn yet, and the sun’s still shining there,
But we bow our heads and we brood and fret, because of the masks we wear;
Or we nod and smile the social while, and we say we’re doing well,
But we break our hearts, oh, we break our hearts! for the things we must not tell.
There’s the old love wronged ere the new was won, there’s the light of long ago;
There’s the cruel lie that we suffer for, and the public must not know.
So we go through life with a ghastly mask, and we’re doing fairly well,
While they break our hearts, oh, they kill our hearts! do the things we must not tell.
We see but pride in a selfish breast, while a heart is breaking there;
Oh, the world would be such a kindly world if all men’s hearts lay bare!
We live and share the living lie, we are doing very well,
While they eat our hearts as the years go by, do the things we dare not tell.
We bow us down to a dusty shrine, or a temple in the East,
Or we stand and drink to the world-old creed, with the coffins at the feast;
We fight it down, and we live it down, or we bear it bravely well,
But the best men die of a broken heart for the things they cannot tell.