Bodie Thoene
BODIE AND BROCK THOENE (pronounced Tay-nee) have written over 45 works of historical fiction. These best sellers have sold more than 10 million copies and won eight ECPA Gold Medallion Awards.
Bodie began her writing career as a teen journalist for her local newspaper. Eventually her byline appeared in prestigious periodicals such as U.S. News and World Report, The American West, and The Saturday Evening Post. She also worked for John Wayne’s Batjac Productions (she’s best known as author of The Fall Guy) and ABC Circle Films as a writer and researcher. John Wayne described her as “a writer with talent that captures the people and the times!” She has degrees in journalism and communications.
Bodie and Brock have four grown children—Rachel, Jake Thoene, Luke Thoene, and Ellie—and five grandchildren. Their sons, Jake and Luke, are carrying on the Thoene family talent as the next generation of writers, and Luke produces the Thoene audiobooks.
Bodie and Brock divide their time between London and Nevada.
“Sometime the only way t' keep goin' is t' keep goin'.”
“Being brave...is not always being unafraid. Maybe it's more like doing what you know is right even when you're too tired. Or scared. It's going on and doing it anyway...even when you think you can't take one more step.”
“What is right is often forgotten by what is convenient.”
“There is often grief that comes with loving, Moshe. But it is worth it.”
“Love is the only mirror we must use to judge ourselves and others.”
“And if we do not stand now, then when will a stand be taken against evil?”
“Apathy is the glove into which evil slips its hand.”
“Anger is the wind which blows out the lamp of the mind.”
“Tonight the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come marched in goose-step and raised a hand to salute "Heil Hitler!" Tonight the ghost wore a swastika on his armband instead of the simple red and white colors of Austria. And yet, on this silent night, the horrible specter seemed all but invisible in Vienna. Murphy could only wonder if he was the sole person at Sacher's who could hear the anthem of Hitler's hordes echoing distantly from beyond the mountains.”
“Nobody liked Goring except Hitler and Goring.”
“Elisa thought how empty the prayers sounded. The words rattled around in the ancient rafters and then returned to them like dead leaves falling from the trees. No life. No shade of hope. Only a cold wind that blew into their very souls.”
“God sees when we do not see, ja?”
“The Reich may tell you whom you may love and whom you must hate. Oh, yes, Thomas, the Reich can dictate the inward life of every man.""Not the inward life." Thomas looked up sharply. "Only the outward show.”
“Hot tears rolled from Herschel's eyes and he wiped them away, afraid that they would drip through the boards and onto his father's unfeeling tormentors.”
“This pursuit of Theo was not borne out of hatred for him as a man or a Jew. All of that was just an excuse - an excuse for lawless men to take what belonged to others. It seemed strange that those who served the Hitlers and the Himmlers and the Gorings believed constant lies. "The Jew is a misfortune." It was those little men in the service of greed who were the most violent, the most dedicated to the brutality of the racial policies. They murdered and terrorized for one reason only: because they could. They were the law of the lawlessness; the power of evil was their creed and their joy and their god!”
“He scowled at the typewriter, at the empty sheet of paper.”
“ . . . he thought how easy it would be to simply kick his typewriter onto the floor and smash it to pieces among the wads of discarded paper that overflowed his waste basket.”
“What miralces can there be when Germany has sold her soul?”
“This is me, God! Elisa. I once saw you in all the world. But the world is dark now, Lord. Full. Full of darkness. Close your eyes for a moment, God, and let me sing to you. Let me remember that you are here. Here in the notes. Smiling down as I play for you. Just this moment, God, let me sing to you. And maybe in the song, I will forget whether I am singing to you, or you are singing to me . . . ”
“You *forgot*? I will beat you with a good stout stick!”
“The seasons sang to him - like ageless hymns with whisperings he could feel, but not fully understand.”