Always Our Wars Have Been Our Confessions

How Can I Look Back And Not Speak Of The Stupid Learning About Birth? Of The Stupid Learning That People Make Love, And How It Seemed The Reason For All Things, The Intimacy Of My Wondering, The Illumination That To An Adolescent Was The Cause For Life Around Me, The Reason Why The Unhappy People I Knew Did Not Kill Themselves?

In Time Of Crisis, We Summon Up Our Strength. Then, If We Are Lucky, We Are Able To Call Every Resource, Every Forgotten Image That Can Leap To Our Quickening, Every Memory That Can Make Us Know Our Power. And This Luck Is More Than It Seems To Be: It Depends On The Long Preparation Of The Self To Be Used.

I Remember Mother Saying : Inventors Are Like Poets, A Trashy Lot

There Is Also, In Any History, The Buried, The Wasted, And The Lost.

If We Look Long Enough And Hard Enough ... We Will Begin To See The Connections That Bind Us Together, And When We Recognize Those Connections, We Will Begin To Change The World.