Facts interest me less than the trailing smoke of stories.

Later our dreams begin catching fire around the edges, they burn like paper, we wake with our hands full of ash.

I keep thinking, we teach children to use language to solve their disputes. We teach them not to hit and fight and bite. Then look what adults do!

Being good felt like a heavy coat, so I took it off.

... the real heroes of race and culture would always be the people who stepped out of their own line to make a larger circle.

For you who came so far; for you who held out, wearing a black scarf to signify grief; for you who believe true love can find you amidst this atlas of tears linking one town to its own memory of mortar, when it was still a dream to be built and people moved there, believing, and someone with sky and birds in his heart said this would be a good place for a park.

Teaching and writing are separate, but serve/feed one another in so many ways. Writing travels the road inward, teaching, the road out - helping OTHERS move inward - it is an honor to be with others in the spirit of writing and encouragement.