Our apologies, good friends, for the fracture of good order, the burning of paper instead of children. How many must die before our voices are heard, how many must be tortured, dislocated, starved, maddened? When, at what point, will you say no to this war?

It's not going to be easy to change things.

The Jesuits I know who have died and all their lives were great teachers, they're the least remembered people

My father had very little formal education.

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.

Faith is rarely where your head is at. Nor is it where your heart is at. Faith is where your ass is at!

Because success is such a weasel word anyway, it's such a horribly American word, and it's such a vamp and, I think it's a death trap.