Addicted to Words

Among a coward’s weapons, cynicism is the nastiest of all.

There was much to hate in this world, and too much to love.

How much in this world is done because we fear death, the last and greatest terror?

Instead the sword smith gave one sword to each of his three children, not knowing who would receive the one that would kill the king, and he gave it no more thought because none of his children would do such a thing, and if any of the swords fell into other hands the matter was left to fate and time and Fate and Time can kill as many kings as they please, and will eventually kill them all.

Henry is a human being, just as you are a human being. Consider yourself for a moment--everything you've overcome, everything you've survived. Think of the people who loved you up into your now. Think of how hard school is or was, how you were lucky or blessed to meet people you could love and who could love you. Think about how rare and precious humans are, and how many of them you get to worry for and care about. Then, if you can, find a way to multiply that times 1,250,000. That is why we must work together to end tuberculosis and all other diseases of injustice.

An oath could be broken, but a promise? A promise stood as long as you were still trying. A promise understood that sometimes your best wasn't enough. A promise cried with you when all went to Damnation. A promise came to help when you could barely stand. Because a promise knew that sometimes, being there was all you could offer.

"I don't feel lucky," I said. "What do you feel?" "I don't know. Lost." I thought of Sunil. "My friend said I don't have to do anything. He said all I need to do is be." "Your friend sounds like a wise old sage." "That just about sums him up." Ellis started driving us out of the car park. "I don't like doing nothing," she said. "It's boring." "So what do you think I should do?" She gave this some thought for a moment. Then she said, "Give your friendships the magic you would give a romance. Because they're just as important. Actually, for us, they're way more important." She glanced to one side at me. "There. Was that sage-like enough for you?" I grinned. "Very sage-like." "I can be profound. I am an artist." "You should put this in a painting." "You know what? Maybe I will.”

Born too late to explore the oceans, born too early to explore space, born just in time to listen to WTNV.

You are a weirdo. However, there is great power in being a weirdo — and if you can love yourself a little more and doubt yourself a lot less, the sooner you will realize that there are a lot more weirdos in this world than you ever dreamed possible.

"Live!" Dad said. "That's all anybody can do right now. Live Hold out. Survive. I don't know whether good times are coming back again. But I know that won't matter if we don't survive these times.”

Dr. Girum later told me, "Yes, I know, it's just one patient. There are so many patients, and Henry is just one. Why should we move mountains to save one patient? Because he is one person. A person, you understand? And anyway, what if he can be the first of many?”

The layman as well as the scientist would like to know how this gourd sheathed in beads and snake vertebrae, and sometimes containing a human bone, came to be the fixed and honored object that it is. It has its commandments as the voice of the gods and certainly it is hallowed. How did it get that way? Who began it? Where exactly?

The wind howls after him as he leaves in fear of what is to come, but a mortal cannot understand the wishes of the wind no matter how loud it cries and so these final warnings go unheeded.

I found it extremely heartening to see all those donations pour in to this young man who has too often been neglected and ignored by society. It reminded me that when we know about suffering, when we are proximal to it, we are capable of extraordinary generosity. We can do and be so much for each other–but only when we see one another in our full humanity, not as statistics or problems, but as people who deserve to be alive in the world.

Humans are just primates trying to make the best of a very strange situation. 

"Do you like this place, Ezra?" "Yes," Zachary answers, confused, but even as he says the word he realizes he does not mean this place now the way it is with its empty halls and broken universe. He means the place it was before, when it was alive. He means a crowded ballroom. A multitude of seekers looking for things they do not have names for and finding them in stories written and unwritten and in each other.

But we can choose a different world. In fact, we will choose a different world. The world will be different a generation from now. The question is whether we will look back in gratitude at the virtuous cycles, or in horror at the vicious ones.