I truly admire all honest-speaking people, but if blunt and hurtful rather than kind and oblique, some from a much greater distance.

Some people touch our lives with darkness and some with light. It may take a while, but we often realize that either way it was a source of resolve and energy, and so a gift. 

Some people see what causes things. Other people see what is needed to correct it. That could well be the basic difference between apathy and charity. 

Sensitive people live in passionate extremes, and they more often hurt themselves than anybody else. 

I was not rescued by the Prince. I was saved by the toad, a much more interesting character. 

Sometimes, when frustrated, I momentarily yearn for the life of a hobo, to spit in the face of gainful endeavor, to ride on whims, to have but an old coat and trousers for a home.

Before you call yourself a compassionate person, ask yourself this question. Would I give a homeless person part of my meal before I start to eat, or after I ate what I wanted? 

I admire people who do not grovel and do not beg. At worst, if you can call it a weakness, they bargain.

Don't plant a fern and a cactus in the same flowerbox. They need different things...just as some people do. 

People can be a little bit like plants. Sad as it is, it seems that some of them would rather be crapped on than be loved.

Teach the young. Support the old. Be a co-worker to those who struggle. Be tolerant of the uninformed as they learn. Pray for all. In your lifetime, you have been, or may be, all of them. 

Higher education should breed humility, but it often results in arrogant intolerance. I would give the pompous students a poor grade. Something even lower than F! 

There are people who are unconventional, extravagant, unpredictable, zany. These are the "characters" in our lives, the ones who add so much color, freshness, and entertainment. I'm here to recognize the fact that being a character surely can't be that easy, and to say, "Thanks!" 

Because each of us is filled with an unlimited amount of interesting aspects and idiosyncrasies, it is a shame there is not enough time for each of us to better know all others.


...the little kid hiding behind a tree... who watches others build a snowman, then rushes in to unbuild it, and, laughing, runs off with the head.

...the man with eyes averted from any kind of nest, whose unromantic heart never skips a beat.  He is incomplete without his car keys. He may give candy or daisies, but his power rests in leaving.

...the woman who is always crying, her voice breaking into Morse code nobody can understand.

...the man who shuns sensory experiences, gives half-a handshake, no eye contact.

...the woman who talks all the time, like waves barging in, whispering out, the same thing over and over, louder and louder, like an oldtime radio -- mostly static.

...the father who punishes with the "evil eye," leaving damage from which the weaker ones may never recover.

...the perfect, "rock-a-by" mother, always vigilent, who will never let the bough break.

...the flim-flam man with a book of Fifth-Avenue promises who wears exaggeration like an accessory and takes investors apart for easy handling.

...the couple that wears itself thin, teeth grinding throughout "me-first" marching-band conversations.

...the adventurer who tolerates no security or inconvenience, who charges into the great belly of the sky, devoid of customary armaments, to take on whatever comes.

...the pretender with meticulous ways of being, thinking exactly like another, to build the cheap repoire of fictitious friendship almost as exciting as two people, side-by-side, vacuuming the rug.

...the ones who never lie, but have made a lot of mistakes they never talk about.

....the anxious ones, grade school children of the pharmacy, medically stenciled with serial numbers that suggest there is no healthy use for true expression, for anger or sorrow that staggers a bit outside the lines, and that all questionable impulse should, instead of being faced, understood and shaped, be quickly obliterated.

...the spouse who mistakes your mind for a sponge and your body for a tool.

...the interresting couples -- the pedestrian sigher and the anagramic dreamer; the interrogation officer and the poet; the journalist and the choreographer; the riverbank man and the shopping mall woman..... and those with toothbrushes hanging side by side, who share their mornings and their dreams, their evenings and their grief, and are together always even when one of them is away.