I know that it isn’t just violence against women, it’s how do we support ourselves and our families, how do we deal with health care for ourselves and our families? It’s a bigger picture.
We often represent God to ourselves as being able to draw from non-being a world without sorrows, faults, dangers – a world in which there is no damage, no breakage. This is a conceptual fantasy and makes it impossible to solve the problem of evil.
We are setting ourselves up for disappointment if our hope is built on anything less than Jesus.
God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. Yet his shadow still looms. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives; who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves?
All men are by nature equal, made all of the same earth by one Workman; and however we deceive ourselves, as dear unto God is the poor peasant as the mighty prince.
We all need ways to express ourselves, and poetry is one of mine.
Communication is a continual balancing act, juggling the conflicting needs for intimacy and independence. To survive in the world, we have to act in concert with others, but to survive as ourselves, rather than simply as cogs in a wheel, we have to act alone.
We participate in the creation of the world by decreating ourselves.
I think one of the primary themes in my work is the paradox of memory, at once fundamental to our sense of who we are and yet elusive, ever-changing, fragmentary. One way to look at this is to say that, therefore, we ourselves are elusive, ever-changing and fragmentary to ourselves.
When we hear some beautiful piece of Mozart or admire a wonderful building, we suddenly become present in ourselves. That’s unusual nowadays because dishevelment and distraction have become an art form.