Don't criticize that man unless you have walked in his shoes.
I'm trustworthy and true and a whole of other positive words that start with T.
My life is ticking away one subway token at a time - a never ending pirouette of arriving and departing, pushing through turnstiles, nodding goodbye and hello. In eight hours I'll be allowed to turn around and go home.
It's easy to be cynical; harder is remembering that on any given day the person beside you on the subway or taking to long to pay for a tub of yogurt at the supermarket could be going through something tremendous and sorrowful and arduous.
It's nice to have one worry marched to the wings and forcefully thrown into the alleyway.
Being unique is highly over rated.
People are shuffling by in long coats, with shopping bags and takeout, smoking cigarettes and feigning laughter - filling up their lives with distractions to shut out the chaos.
They all have tired mouths and bright seamless souls. And a longing (as for sin) sometimes haunts their dreams. They are almost all alike; in God's gardens they keep still, like many, many intervals in his might and melody. Only when they spread their wings are they wakers of a wind: as if God with his broad sculptor- hands leafed through the pages in the dark book of the beginning.
Is not man himself the most unsettled of all the creatures of the earth? What is this trembling sensation that is intensified with each ascending step in the natural order?
History is and should be a science.
People have expectations of me but I'm not a magician.