Greed stains our culture, soaks our sensibilities and has replaced grace as a sign of our intimacy with the divine.

I'm accused of cleverness as if it were a sin. She is merely clever, they say.

Hope is a dream deferred.

Writing poetry is like always being in love. What masochism! What luxury!

Integrity pays, but not in cash.

Opinion is the death of knowledge.

It's love and the capacity for love that distinguishes one human being from another.