The World Is Run By One Million

I Know Now That When The Loving, Honest Moment Comes It Should Be Seized, And Spoken, Because It May Never Come Again. And Unvoiced, Unmoving, Unlived In The Things We Declare Form Heart To Heart, Those True And Real Feelings Wither And Crumble In The Remembering Hand That Tries Too Late To Reach For Them.

And Money, If The Pile Gets High Enough, Is Something Like A Big Political Party: It Does As Much Harm As It Does Good, It Puts Too Much Power In Too Few Hands, And The Closer You Come To It The Dirtier You Get.

There's A Truth Deeper Than Experience. It's Beyond What We See, Or Even What We Feel. It's An Order Of Truth That Separates The Profound From The Merely Clever, And The Reality From The Perception. We're Helpless, Usually, In The Face Of It; And The Cost Of Knowing It, Like The Cost Of Knowing Love, Is Sometimes Greater Than Any Heart Would Willingly Pay. It Doesn't Always Help Us To Love The World, But It Does Prevent Us From Hating The World. And The Only Way To Know That Truth Is To Share It, From Heart To Heart, Just As Prabhakar Told It To Me, Just As I'm Telling It To You Now.

While I Was Chained To A Wall And Being Tortured, I Realized, Through The Screaming Of My Mind, That Even In That Shackled, Bloody Helplessness, I Was Still Free: Free To Hate The Men Who Were Torturing Me, Or To Forgive Them. It Doesn't Sound Like Much, I Know. But In The Flinch And Bite Of The Chain, When It's All You've Got, That Freedom Is A Universe Of Possibility. And The Choice You Make Between Hating And Forgiving, Can Become The Story Of Your Life.

Praising People Behind Their Back Is Monstrously Unfair, Because The One Thing You Can't Defend Yourself Against Is The Good That People Say About You.