“We are developing in the United States a huge underclass of unwanted people, many of them the descendants of the exploitation of the South American and Latin American countries by American piratical capitalism.”

And I have found that when we Catholics, in the spirit of love and charity, declare our faith boldly and with conviction, we are more likely to find kindred spirits.

The rosary is a weapon against depression and hopelessness.

This is how we must comport ourselves if we are to fulfill our Lord’s command in the Gospel of John (17:21), Ut unum sint, that all may be one.

Listening makes us open to Christ, the Word of God, spoken in all things: in the material world, the Scriptures, the Church, and sacraments and, sometimes most threateningly, in our fellow human beings.

We’ve all got a terminal illness. It’s called life.

To listen at prayer is to take the chance of hearing the voice of Christ in the poor, the weak, those whom we love and those whom we do not love.

The prayer of listening makes things simple but it also makes us vulnerable, and that is frightening.

The best gift anyone can give to a friend is to pray for him.

Not all capitalism is piratical, but some of it certainly is. And we have a fantastic gap beginning to exist between rich and poor.

I’ve been able to tour because of my music and I’ve learned a lot about myself while on the road. I think some of the imagery of my writing are snapshots of where I’ve been and my feelings about the world.

I think it gets to musicians’ heads a lot of the time. Just because people like your records doesn’t mean what you have to say is going to be interesting.

The older I get, the less I care about what’s cool. I realize I’m old and weird.

God helps those who have no-cut contracts.

I dance is the one that linked the cities of prosperity and chance.

In a time where everything’s a flavor of the month, and it’s hard to have any sort of longevity,

Now we the American working population Hate the fact that eight hours a day Is wasted on chasing the dream of someone that isn’t us And we may not hate our jobs But we hate jobs in general That don’t have to do with fighting our own causes.

There’s smoke in my iris, but I painted a sunny day on the insides of my eyelids