I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me.
Since the beginning, Native Peoples lived a life of being in harmony with all that surrounds us.
We often attribute ‘understanding’ and other cognitive predicates by metaphor and analogy to cars, adding machines, and other artifacts, but nothing is proved by such attributions.
Conservatives sense a link between television and drugs, but they do not grasp the nature of this connection.
I want to speak, to sing to total strangers. It’s my way of talking to the world.
Because politics rests on an irreducible measure of coercion, it can never become a perfect realm of perfect love and justice.
If I have not the power to put myself in the place of other people, but must be continually burrowing inward, I shall never be the magnanimous creative person I wish to be. Yet I am hypnotized by the workings of the individual, alone, and am continually using myself as a specimen.
I want Books and Babies and Beef stews.
Most people no longer live in nuclear families at all.
What I want back is what I was.