The true faith discovered was When painted panel, statuary, Glass-mosaic, window-glass, Amended what was told awry By some peasant gospeler.
There is no principle worth the name if it is not wholly good.
Those who know how to think need no teachers.
Silence becomes cowardice when occasion demands speaking out the whole truth and acting accordingly.
Civil disobedience becomes a sacred duty when the state has become lawless or corrupt. And a citizen who barters with such a state shares in its corruption and lawlessness.
My faith is brightest in the midst of impenetrable darkness.
The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.
The hand descended. Nearer and nearer it came. It touched the ends of his upstanding hair. He shrank down under it. It followed down after him, pressing more closely against him. Shrinking, almost shivering. He still managed to hold himself together. It was a torment, this hand that touched him and violated his instinct. He could not forget in a day all the evil that had been wrought him at the hands of men.
I have become convinced, through my studies, that the only way to achieve a safe, just and viable world is to live by the Golden Rule. This is what drives my writing. I want to point out this interconnectedness, point out the beauty of the faith in all traditions without exception, show the complexity of the atrocities that we have experienced, and our shared culpability as a species.
Disaster beats stasis. Better a rolling stone than a moss-covered rock.
I stopped caring so much about what people might think if I sung about love and humanity.