... We Die, Just As We Were

How Do I Pray? I Study A Rose, I Count The Stars, I Marvel At The Beauty Of Creation And How Perfectly Ordered It Is, At Man, The Most Beautiful Work Of The Creator, His Brain Thirsting For Knowledge, His Heart For Love, And His Senses, All His Senses Alert Or Gratified.

What Makes Me Myself Rather Than Anyone Else Is The Very Fact That I Am Poised Between Two Countries, Two Or Three Languages, And Several Cultural Traditions. It Is Precisely This That Defines My Identity. Would I Exist More Authentically If I Cut Off A Part Of Myself

Life Is Not So Long That One Can Grow Tired Of It

Isn't It A Characteristic Of The Age We Live In That It Has Made Everyone In A Way A Migrant And A Member Of A Minority?

Are You Certain That A Man's Life Begins With His Birth?