“The sun pours down on the earth, on the lovely land that man cannot enjoy. He knows only the fear of his heart.”

Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that’s the inheritor of our fear.

Money is for buying the fruits of the earth, of the land where you were born.

But perhaps when you were too obedient, and did not do openly what others did, and were quiet in church and hard-working at school.

And whether they do not see him there in the grass, or whether they fear to halt even a moment, but they do not wake him, they let him be.

Life has not taught me to expect nothing, but she has taught me not to expect success to be the inevitable result of my endeavors.

Fear is a journey,a terrible journey, but sorrow is at least an arrival.

There is not much talking now. A silence falls upon them all.

These hills are grass-covered and rolling, and they are lovely beyond any singing of it.

The Afrikaner has nowhere to go, and thats why he would rather destroy himself than capitulate.

Building on the mistakes of the past and the energy generated by reconciliation to create a new future.

There is a lovely road that runs from Ixopo into the hills.

What broke in a man when he could bring himself to kill another?

I couldn’t face that question. (Ah, But Your Land Is Beautiful)

For it is the dawn that has come, as it has come for a thousand centuries, never failing.

People hurry home past him, to places safe from danger.

Something deep is touched here, something that is good and deep.

Cham is the only thing to screw one up when one is down a peg.

Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the road, a long, agonized wailing, as if from fear. The sound was taken up by another dog, and then another and another, till, borne on the wind which now sighed softly through the Pass.

The locomotive of my heart was rushing down a dangerously steep slope, heading for a collision, heedless of the warning red lights that blinked all about me, the sirens and the ells and the screams that filled the air.

Class was like watered down porn today. Vee said

Ladies touch babies like a banker touches gold, outlaws touch ladies somewhere deep down in their soul.

You take what you’ve learned, you pass it down, and you keep working.

It’s impossible to have met the real Jesus and be indifferent. You either bow down in wonder OR go away offended.

Psychedelics are illegal because they dissolve opinion structures and culturally laid down models of behaviour and information processing. They open you up to the possibility that everything you know is wrong.