The child tells me her grandmothershowed her how to cure sadness by sucking the juice of an orange, while standing on a beach.Toss the peels onto a wave.Watch the sadness float away.

Hatred must be a hard thing to learn.

I can’t understand why dark northern soldiers and light ones are seperated into different brigades. The dead are all buried together in hasty mass graves, bones touching.

Marriage without love is just one more twisted form of slavery.

If we knew how to find the lost, we would know how to rediscover the parts of our mindsleft behindin battle.

I don’t understand the whole thrilling verse, but I love the way poetry turns ordinary words into winged things that rise up and soar!

Can it be true that freedom only exists when it is a treasure, shared by all?