Since James Madison day (and long before), there have been constant struggles over "democratic governance".
Writers themselves don't analyze what they do; to analyze would be to look down while crossing a canyon on a tightrope.
In various and different circumstances certain objects and individuals are going to turn out to be vital. The wager of survival cannot, by its nature, reveal which, in advance of events.
There is no moral authority like that of sacrifice.
The facts are always less than what really happened.
Disaster is private, in its way, as love is.
The creative act is not pure. History evidences it. Sociology extracts it. The writer loses Eden, writes to be read and comes to realize that he is answerable.
The Enlightenment was an attempt to liberate myth and base truth claims on evidence, not just dogma. But when science threw out the church, they threw out the baby with the bath water.
I've been lucky. I've met a lot of baseball people, and I've learned to value people who talk - people who talk well and in long sentences and even long paragraphs.
Even without them touching me, I feel dirty about what I do. Alex does even filthier things but says it all washes off with soap. I don’t believe that. I think it all leaves stains. Indelible stains.
A strong marriage requires loving your spouse even in those moments when they aren't being lovable; it means believing in them even when they struggle to believe in themselves.