Growing old is partly an inescapable process of accommodation and adjustment.
When Michelangelo was an old man, he drew himself sitting in a child's pushcart.
While I drew, and wept along with the terrified children I was drawing, I really felt the burden I am bearing. I felt that I have no right to withdraw from the responsibility of being an advocate.
I thought I was a revolutionary and was only an evolutionary.
Pacifism simply is not a matter of calm looking on; it is work, hard work.
There are moments on most days when I feel a deep and sincere gratitude, when I sit at the open window, and there is a blue sky or moving clouds.