We put up with a lot to be saved from chaos. We always have.

I have a problem about being nearly sixty: I keep waking up in the morning and thinking I'm thirty-one.

I am not sure how many "sins" I would recognize in the world. Some would surely be defused by changed circumstances. But I can imagine none that is more irredeemably sinful than the betrayal, the exploitation, of the young by those who should care for them.

If history is really relevant in today's world, the proposition doesn't command much respect. Perhaps the past is a different country, but if so no one much wants to travel there.

We haven't come a long way, we've come a short way. If we hadn't come a short way, no one would be calling us baby.

Unless I am what I am and feel what I feel - as hard as I can and as honestly and truly as I can - then I am nothing. Let me feel guilty ... don't try to educate me ... don't protect me.

Whatever class and race divergences exist, top cats are tom cats.