The gun is mightier than the pen, was our true opinion, and the RPG is mightier still.

We need empathy, we need the eyes that still can weep.

We're so many, we're so hard to distinguish from each other, but we long to be distinguished.

Stay in these rooms for years and years, live on forever in a glorious museum.

Suffering itself is beloved: love and suffering are far closer to each other than love and pleasure.

The rooms of his apartment were full with the dog home again, convalescing. He was satisfied to know, even when she was out of sight, that somewhere in the apartment she was sleeping or eating or sitting watchfully. It was family, he guessed, more or less. Did most people want a house of living things at night, to know that in the dark around them other warm bodies slept? Such a house could even be the whole world.

The word suffering is full and whole and perfect as a pierced heart, sweet, rushing and tender ... Suffering is the joy of someone about to be martyred, illumination of something given up as an offer.