On Paper I Would Be A Rather

Mining In Bc's Sacred Headwaters Is Like Drilling For Oil In The Sistine Chapel

Language Is An Old-growth Forest Of The Mind.

In The West We Cling To The Past Like Limpets. In Haiti The Present Is The Axis Of All Life. As In Africa, Past And Future Are But Distant Measures Of The Present, And Memories Are As Meaningless As Promises.

The World In Which You Were Born Is Just One Model Of Reality. Other Cultures Are Not Failed Attempts At Being You; They Are Unique Manifestations Of The Human Spirit.

To Have That Powder Blown Up Your Nose Is Rather Like Being Shot Out Of A Rifle Barrel Lined With Baroque Paintings And Landing On A Sea Of Electricity.