Drawing on examples from modern world history, including resistance to the Nazis, the Civil Rights struggle in the USA, and recent protests by young people around gun violence, the authors offer a compelling introduction to the theory and practice of nonviolence.

A delightful way to show little ones how their hands are a blessing from God that they can use to do help others. Written in rhyming text and illustrated with the charming art of Gaby Hansen, this simple message of God’s blessing of hands not only entertains . . . as it teaches what wonderful things our hands can do from scratching, latching, and petting a pup to washing dishes with mommy and putting toys in a box . . . but it also conveys the important message: We can use God’s gift of hands to show our love for Him by helping others. The book ends tenderly with a prayer of thanks to God for hands and asks Him to use them again: One hand, two hands, Five fingers, ten. God, thanks, for my hands. Please, use them again.

The reconstruction of highly efficient and deadly medieval fighting systems has seen a popular resurgence as students recreate these arts through structured martial arts training and then test their skills in competitive tournaments. Brian R. Price, Principale for one of the largest martial arts / historical fighting schools and author of the immensely popular Techniques of Medieval Armour Reproduction, presents the first English-language book focused solely on the astounding swordsmanship of the late 14th century swordmaster, Fiore dei Liberi. In the Fior di Battaglia the old master recorded an integrated fighting system that includes grappling, work with and against a dagger, baton, the sword in one and two hands, spear and poleaxe, in and out of armour, on foot and on horseback. This system, based on a set of simple principles, is as effective as any martial arts system since devised. Sword in Two Hands distills this system through the use of the hand-and-a-half sword using a proven, logical, systematic approach integrating modern training techniques. The book includes drills and more than 700 color photographs.

Isolde's day has come. In Ireland, her mother, the Queen, lies dying. The throne of the Emerald Isle, one of the last strongholds of the goddess, awaits her. But while Ireland is her destiny, Isolde is already Queen of Cornwall, trapped in a loveless marriage to its mean-spirited King Mark. Her true love is his nephew, Tristan of Lyonesse, who has never married, remaining faithful only to Isolde. Across the sea in France, a young princess who shares Isolde's name enters the story. King Hoel named his daughtor in honor of Isolde of Ireland, and young Isolde of France has always been determined to outdo her beautiful namesake. She is a physician, too, and is called "Blanche Mains," for her white hands and healing touch. Blanche is of an age to be married, and she has chosen her husband—Tristan of Lyonesse. Her father objects, but fate favors Blanche. King Mark has become suspicious of his wife and nephew, and when Tristan is wounded in battle, he sees a chance to separate them for good. Mark sends Tristan to France to be healed by Blanche, who makes the most of the opportunity. Tristan's letters to Isolde are intercepted, and he is told that she has given him up. Near death from his wounds, Tristan sends one last, desparate letter to Isolde by a trusted servant. He is dying, he tells her, and asks for one final sign of their love. If she can forgive him for betraying her, she must come to France in a ship set with white sails. If the ship's sails are black, however, he will know that she no longer loves him. Isolde immediately leaves for France, but when Blanche sees the white-sailed ship from the castle window, she pulls the curtains and tells Tristan that the sails are black. To her horror, he turns his face to the wall and dies. There ends the traditional medieval story of Tristan and Isolde—with betrayal, death, and grief. But the original Irish lengend ends differently, and so does this book, wth magic and drama as only Rosalind Miles could write it.

"You are our warrior," Debbie said to him. "You and Sari. Do not easily let them take the Children of Israel, the future of our country." It was absurd and impromptu, this word. Just there the flames, the enemy, and death. Yet words can surprise, can be more then words and this one seared through them like a bright hot poker and Debbie rushed back and added her hands to theirs, both her hands to all of theirs, and in the warmth of it they were instantly one: a single heart, a single brain, a single breast, one being, one purpose, one common goal. Jacob's hands went on top, and from his lips came the torch itself, for in hiding places and ghettos and death camps, in this black Passover week of 1942, in Hitler's death trap known as Poland, invincible forces were set in motion. This word, this concept, this Israel was riveted into an alloy stronger than any steel, an alloy to forge a great nation, a nation that their every action helped to build. "To Zion!" Jacob shouted, and their hosannas clamored into the night. --From Two Hands Full of Sunshine