The love of violence is an aspect of our humanity. Even the weak wish to be strong primarily so they can wield the whip.

There is a fullness and calmness there which can come only from knowing pain.

Words are the only bullets in truth's bandolier. And poets are the snipers.

No lifetime is long enough for those ... who simply wish to understand themselves and their lives. It is, perhaps, the curse of being human, but also a blessing.

It started 25 years ago, when I was teaching elementary school in a small town in Missouri

The future is like smoke from a burning forest, waiting for the wind of specific events and personal courage to blow the sparks and embers of reality this way or that.

It occurs to me that our survival may depend upon our talking to one another.