The Human Rainbow Had Been Mutilated By

So Many Stories, And To Choose Which Ones To Tell And How To Tell Them. The Words, They Will Tap Me On The Shoulder And They Will Speak To Me: Tell Me! Tell Me! The Stories Choose Me.

For Sailors Who Love The Wind, Memory Is A Good Port Of Departure.

Schools Teach Ignorance.

We Live In A World That Treats The Dead Better Than The Living. We, The Living Are Askers Of Questions And Givers Of Answers, And We Have Other Grave Defects Unpardonable By A System That Believes Death, Like Money, Improves People.

Each Person Shines With His Or Her Own Light. No Two Flames Are Alike. There Are Big Flames And Little Flames, Flames Of Every Color. Some People’s Flames Are So Still They Don’t Even Flicker In The Wind, While Others Have Wild Flames That Fill The Air With Sparks. Some Foolish Flames Neither Burn Nor Shed Light, But Others Blaze With Life So Fiercely That You Can’t Look At Them Without Blinking, And If You Approach You Shine In The Fire.