Honesty is as rare as a man without self-pity.

The other week I wrote a piece on a photograph I got at a flea market, and I got about 70 hits. I think a lot of people must be interested in flea markets.

One cannot balance tragedy in the scales Unless one weighs it with the tragic heart.

I died in my boots like a pioneer With the whole wide sky above me.

I've been reading a lot lately about Indian captives. One woman who had been captured by the Indians and made a squaw was resentful when she was rescued because she'd found that there was a lot more work to do as the wife of a white man.

Whatever poetry that was in me was coming out in the form of constructing art books!

Grant us a common faith that we shall know bread and peace-that we shall know justice and righteousness, freedom and security, an equal opportunity and an equal chance to do our best not only in our own lands, but throughout the world. And in that faith let us march toward the clean world our hands can make.