It Is A Sad Day When One

We Are All Born Equally Far From The Sun.

As I Walked Briskly Out The Road The Wind Knifed At My Face, But This Sun Caressed The Back Of My Neck.

Stranded In This Mill Town Railroad Yard While The Whole World Was Converging Elsewhere, We Seemed To Be Nothing But Children Playing Among Heroic Men.

It Seemed Clear That Wars Were Not Made By Generations And Their Special Stupidities, But That Wars Were Made Instead By Something Ignorant In The Human Heart

The Next Major Advance In The Health Of The American People Will Be Determined By What The Individual Is Willing To Do For Himself.