It Is The Experiences, The Memories, The

Sometimes My Need To Love Hurts-- Myself, My Family, My Cause. Is There A Cure? Of Course. But I Refuse. Refuse To Stop Loving, To Stop Caring. To Avoid Those Tears, That Pain...to Err On The Side Of Passion Is Human And Right And The Only Way I'll Live.

Now What Is History? It Is The Centuries Of Systematic Explorations Of The Riddle Of Death, With A View To Overcoming Death. That's Why People Discover Mathematical Infinity And Electromagnetic Waves, That's Why They Write Symphonies.

Alaska Has Long Been A Magnet For Dreamers And Misfits, People Who Think The Unsullied Enormity Of The Last Frontier Will Patch All The Holes In Their Loves. The Bush Is An Unforgiving Place, However, That Care Nothing For Hope Or Longing.

The Sad End He Met In Afghanistan Was More Accurately A Function Of His Stubborn Idealism - His Insistence On Trying To Do The Right Thing. In Which Case It Wasn't A Tragic Flaw That Brought Tillman Down, But A Tragic Virtue.

If You're Not A Feminist, You're Part Of The Problem.