The problem with my eyes is that they have been famished, but now they are feasting.
Language is an intrinsic part of who we are and what has, for good or evil, happened to us.
People who work hard often work too hard. . . . May we learn to honor the hammock, the siesta, the nap and the pause in all its forms.
Activism is my rent for living on the planet.
Nobody is as powerful as we make them out to be.
Any God I ever found in church, I brought in myself.
It has become a common feeling, I believe, as we have watched our heroes falling over the years, that our own small stone of activism, which might not seem to measure up to the rugged boulders of heroism we have so admired, is a paltry offering toward the building of an edifice of hope. Many who believe this choose to withhold their offerings out of shame. This is the tragedy of the world. For we can do nothing substantial toward changing our course on the planet, a destructive one, without rousing ourselves, individual by individual, and bringing our small, imperfect stones to the pile.
Corn is a greedy crop, as farmers will tell you.
What is there to forgive?. . . Ignore forgive and concentrate on living. Life for you is short; far too short to allow small jealousies to infringe on the happiness which can be yours only for the briefest of times.
There's nobody on this earth who can tell you that what you're feeling is wrong. They can tell you it's different to what they're feeling.
I think the future is whatever I'm willing to make it.