If You Make Your Heart Into A

Sooner Or Later, Fate Puts Us Together With All The People, One By One, Who Show Us What We Could, And Shouldn’t, Let Ourselves Become. Sooner Or Later We Meet The Drunkard, The Waster, The Betrayer, The Ruthless Mind, And The Hate-filled Heart. But Fate Loads The Dice, Of Course, Because We Usually Find Ourselves Loving Or Pitying Almost All Of Those People. And It’s Impossible To Despise Someone You Honestly Pity, And To Shun Someone You Truly Love.

Friendship Is Also A Kind Of Medicine, And The Markets For It, Too, Are Sometimes Black.

Good Soldiers Are Defined By What They Can Endure, Not By What They Can Inflict.

The Tears, When They Come To Some Men, Are Worse Than Beatings. They're Wounded Worse By Sobbing, Men Like That, Than They Are By Boots And Batons. Tears Begin In The Heart, But Some Of Us Deny The Heart So Often, And For So Long, That When It Speaks We Hear Not One But A Hundred Sorrows In The Heartbreak. We Know That Crying Is A Good And Natural Thing. We Know That Crying Isn't A Weakness, But A Kind Of Strength. Still, The Weeping Rips Us Root By Tangled Root From The Earth, And We Crash Like Fallen Trees When We Cry.

Let Me Explain Something To You. Look Around Here. How Many People Do You Count? Sixty, Eighty, Eighty People? Greeks, Germans, Italians, French, Americans. Tourists From Everywhere. Eating, Drinking, Talking, Laughing. And From Bombay - Indians And Iranians And Afghans And Arabs And Africans. But How Many Of These People Have Real Power, Real Destiny, Real Dynamic For Their Place, And Their Time, And The Lives Of Thousand Of People? I Will Tell You - Four. Four People In This Room With Power, And The Rest Are Like The Rest Of The People Everywhere: Powerless, Sleepers In The Dream.