One is called to live nonviolently, even if the change one works for seems impossible.

The gift we can offer others is so simple a thing as hope.

I was publishing when I was 20, 21. And it really never stopped.

You have to struggle to stay alive and be of use as long as you can.

Sometime in your life, hope that you might see one starved man, the look on his face when the bread finally arrives. Hope that you might have baked it or bought or even kneaded it yourself. For that look on his face, for your meeting his eyes across a piece of bread, you might be willing to lose a lot, or suffer a lot, or die a little, even.

You just have to do what you know is right.

For my part, I believe that the vain, glorious and the violent will not inherit the earth. . . . In pursuance of that faith my friends and I take the hands of the dying in our hands. And some of us travel to the Pentagon, and others live in the Bowery and serve there, and others speak unpopularly and plainly of the fate of the unborn and of convicted criminals. It is all one.