A Simple Truth
All around the world, in Akansas and Afghanistan, in London and Leningrad, from the noisy hustle of Manhattan to the silence of the Mohave desert, people are pretty much the same.
Oh sure we dress up in the multi-colored clothes of nationalism and religion and culture but underneath that superficial outer show we all want the same things. We want peace and prosperity for ourselves and our families. We want to be valued and loved. We want our children to grow up healthy and secure. We want the simple things that go to make up a worthwhile human life.
When our government sends soldiers to foreign countries to kill they’re not destroying some other species that is evil incarnate.They’re snuffing out the lives and hopes of real people just like you and me. When the bombs explode the families they kill, the brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers, are just like ours. The houses they turn to rubble are homes like our own homes.
This is surely something we need to remember the next time someone starts beating the drum of war or fanning the flames of hatred and fear. The simple truth is that, all over the world, across race and country and religion, what connects us is far more real and powerful than anything that divides us.
from dawn laurens
To call woman the weaker sex is a libel; it is man’s injustice to woman. If by strength is meant brute strength, then, indeed, is woman less brute than man. If by strength is meant moral power, then woman is immeasurably man’s superior. Has she not greater intuition, is she not more self-sacrificing, has she not greater powers of endurance, has she not greater courage? Without her, man could not be. If nonviolence is the law of our being, the future is with woman. Who can make a more effective appeal to the heart than woman?
Screamin’ Jay Hawkins
I put a spell on you …
So soon the cloud burst passes.
Then scrabbling children squeal and rattle their unconcern
at mothers’ shrieked injunctions.
Toward the horizon lazy ships tug at tethers,
desiring the freedom of the high sea,
young men longing for the anonymity of large cities.
Let go without restraint,
pushed by compass-boxing tide, wind and current
about that faceless immensity
they are derelict, abandoned, hopeless.
To spite the world they kill and burn,
Laughing at their heinous deed
And their victim’s trusting demise.