Human Dignity Is More Precious Than Prestige.

We Are Like Trees. We Wear All Colors Naturally.

I Know The Dark Delight Of Being Strange, The Penalty Of Difference In The Crowd, The Loneliness Of Wisdom Among Fools.

I Have Forgotten Much, But Still Remember The Poinsiana's Red, Blood-red In Warm December.

And, Hungry For The Old, Familiar Ways, I Turned Aside And Bowed My Head And Wept.

Idealism Is Like A Castle In The Air If It Is Not Based On A Solid Foundation Of Social And Political Realism.