“Wise men write many books, in words too hard to understand. But this, the purpose of our lives, the end of all our struggle, is beyond all human wisdom.”

The tragedy is not that things are broken.

When men are ruled by fear, they strive to prevent the very changes that will abate it.

But I have learned that kindness and love can pay for pain and suffering.

Who knows for what we live, and struggle, and die?…

Cry for the broken tribe, for the law and the custom that is gone. Aye, and cry aloud for the man who is dead, for the woman and children bereaved.

We do not work for men. We work for the land and the people. We do not even work for money.

Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply… For fear will rob him of all if he gives too much.

When the storm threatens, a man is afraid for his house.

The ground is holy, being even as it came from the Creator.

There is a man sleeping in the grass. And over him is gathering the greatest storm of all his days.

It is not permissible to add to one’s possesions if these things can only be done at the cost of other men.

Money is for food and clothes and comfort, and a visit to the pictures. Money is to make happy the lives of children.

The Judge does not make the law. It is people that make the law.

For fear will rob him of all if he gives too much.

Money is for food and clothes and comfort, and a visit to the pictures.

But what do they help if one seeks for counsel, for one cries this, and one cries that, and another cries something that is neither this nor that.