Poetic

Even Terminus, the god of limits, refused to recognize that limits are everything. The open sky above his head testified to his yearning to escape the ground beneath his feet.

Your job is to witness. To witness, to understand, to comprehend, and to celebrate. To celebrate with your lives.

A people is defined and unified not by blood but by shared memory.

They are not powerless, the dead.

Idealism is not a paralyzing but a liberating force, and to strive for principles, even if the journey is never completed, is to tap a vast source of energy.

We all live under the same sky, but we do not have the same horizon.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light.

The hardest thing in the world is to let yourself know what you know. Because life is noisy. Everything we're told, everything about the way we're raised and educated and bombarded by our culture makes noise. And that noise makes it very hard to hear the ticking of our own hearts.

Not from above, but from below. Not in the light that blinds, but in the dark that nourishes, where human beings grow human souls.

That choice, between the devil and the dream, comes up every day in different little disguises.

Hunger is not only for a piece of bread. Hunger is for love. Nakedness is not only for a piece of cloth. Nakedness is for human dignity. Homelessness is not only for a home made of bricks. Homelessness is being rejected, unwanted, unloved.