War is a dead end, literally. And, what is more, we simply can't afford it. Not morally, and not financially. How long will it take the citizens of the United States, one wonders, to recognize that the house their country bombed in Iraq is the same one they were living in until it was foreclosed?

Anything we love can be saved.

I can imagine in years to come that my papers and memorabilia, my journals and letters, will find themselves always in the company of people who care about many of the things I do.

I'm pore, I'm black, I may be ugly and can't cook, a voice say to everything listening. But I'm here.

It matters to me that I feel loved by the universe - and I do.

I think we have to own the fears that we have of each other, and then, in some practical way, some daily way, figure out how to see people differently than the way we were brought up to.

You must run around like a crazy person or walk sedately honoring the dead.