The willow submits to the wind and prospers until one day it is many willows - a wall against the wind.

The drone in my ear, it’s like the tornado drill in elementary school, the hand-cranked siren that rang mercilessly, all of us hunched over on ourselves, facing the basement walls, heads tucked into our chests. Beth and me wedged tight, jeaned legs pressed against each other. The sounds of our own breathing. Before we all stopped believing a tornado, or anything, could touch us, ever

Speak softly and carry a big stick, and you will go far.

How often it is that the angry man rages denial of what his inner self is telling him.

The purpose of argument is to change the nature of truth.

A person needs new experiences. They jar something deep inside, allowing you to grow. Without them, it sleeps- seldom to awaken. The sleeper must awaken.