Every great loss demands that we choose life again. We need to grieve in order to do this. The pain we have not grieved over will always stand between us and life. When we don't grieve, a part of us becomes caught in the past like Lot's wife who, because she looked back, was turned into a pillar of salt. Grieving is not about forgetting. Grieving allows us to heal, to remember with love rather than pain. It is a sorting process. One by one you let go of the things that are gone and you mourn for them. One by one you take hold of the things that have become a part of who you are and build again.

The walnut of my brain glows. I feel it irradiate the skull. I am aware of the consciousness I have, and I mourn the consciousness I do not have.

I like to think that when I fall,
A rain-drop in Death's shoreless sea,
This shelf of books along the wall,
Beside my bed, will mourn for me.

Here lie men who loved America because their ancestors generations ago helped in her founding. And other men who loved her with equal passion because they themselves or their own fathers escaped from oppression to her blessed shores. Here lie officers and men, Negroes and Whites, rich men and poor, together. Here are Protestants, Catholics, and Jews together. Here no man prefers another because of his faith or despises him because of his color. Here there are no quotas of how many from each group are admitted or allowed. Among these men there is no discrimination. No prejudices. No hatred. Theirs is the highest and purest democracy...

Whosoever of us lifts his hand in hate against a brother, or who thinks himself superior to those who happen to be in the minority, makes of this ceremony and the bloody sacrifice it commemorates, an empty, hollow mockery. To this then, as our solemn sacred duty, do we the living now dedicate ourselves: To the right of Protestants, Catholics, and Jews, of White men and Negroes alike, to enjoy the democracy for which all of them have here paid the price...

We here solemnly swear this shall not be in vain. Out of this and from the suffering and sorrow of those who mourn this, will come, we promise, the birth of a new freedom for the sons of men everywhere.

This is the grimmest, and surely the holiest task we have
faced since D–day. Here before us lie the bodies of comrades and
friends. Men who until yesterday or last week laughed with us, joked with us, trained with us. Men who were on the same ships
with us, and went over the side with us as we prepared to hit the
beaches of this island.It is not easy to do so,” He continued.
Some of us have buried our closest friends here. We saw these
men killed before our very eyes. Any one of us might have died in
their place. Indeed some of us are alive and breathing at this very
monent only because men who lie here beneath us had the courage
and strength to give their lives for ours. To speak in memory of
men such as these is not easy . . .
No, our poor power of speech can add nothing to what these
men and the other dead of our Division who are not here have
already done.
All we can even hope to do is follow their example. To show the
same selfless courage in peace as they did in war. To swear by the
grace of God and the stubborn strength and power of human will,
their sons and ours will never suffer these pains again. These men
have done their job well. They have paid the ghastly price of
freedom. . . .
“We dedicate ourselves, first, to live together
in peace the way they fought and are buried in this war. Here lie
men who loved America because their ancestors generations ago
helped in her founding and other men who loved her with equal
passion because they themselves or their own fathers escaped from
oppression to her blessed shores. Here lie officers and men,
Negroes and whites, rich men and poor--- together . . . . Theirs is
the highest and purest democracy.
Any man among us, the living, who fails to understand that
will thereby betray those who lie here dead. Whoever of us lifts his
hand in hate against a brother . . . . makes of this ceremony and of the bloody sacrifice it commemorates an empty, hollow mockery.
To one thing more do we consecrate ourselves in memory of
those who sleep beneath these crosses and stars. We shall not
foolishly suppose, as did the last generation of America’s fighting
men, that victory on the battlefield will automatically guarantee the
triumph of Democracy at home. This war with all its frightful
heartache and suffering, is but the beginning of our generations
struggle for democracy . . . .
Thus do we memorialize those who, have ceased living with
us, now live within us. Thus do we consecrate ourselves, the
living, to carry on the struggle they began. Too much pain and
heartache have fertilized the earth on which we stand. We here
solemnly swear: This shall not be in vain! Out of this, and from the
suffering and sorrow of those who mourn this, will come—we
promise – the birth of a new freedom for the sons of men

But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them, though it was not I, but the grace of God which is with me.

’Tis a strange species of generosity which requires a return infinitely more valuable than anything it could have bestowed; that demands as a reward for a defense of our property a surrender of those inestimable privileges, to the arbitrary will of vindictive tyrants, which alone give value to that very property.

Exactly. She does not shine as a wife even in her own account of what occurred. I am not a whole-souled admirer of womankind, as you are aware, Watson, but my experience of life has taught me that there are few wives having any regard for their husbands who would let any man's spoken word stand between them and that husband's dead body. Should I ever marry, Watson, I should hope to inspire my wife with some feeling which would prevent her from being walked off by a housekeeper when my corpse was lying within a few yards of her.

Sociobiology is not just any statement that biology, genetics, and evolutionary theory have something to do with human behavior. Sociobiology is a specific theory about the nature of genetic and evolutionary input into human behavior. It rests upon the view that natural selection is a virtually omnipotent architect, constructing organisms part by part as best solutions to problems of life in local environments. It fragments organisms into traits, explains their existence as a set of best solutions, and argues that each trait is a product of natural selection operating for the form or behavior in question. Applied to humans, it must view specific behaviors (not just general potentials) as adaptations built by natural selection and rooted in genetic determinants, for natural selection is a theory of genetic change. Thus, we are presented with unproved and unprovable speculations about the adaptive and genetic basis of specific human behaviors: why some (or all) people are aggressive, xenophobic, religious, acquisitive, or homosexual.

O for a lodge in some vast wilderness, some boundless contiguity of shade; where rumor of oppression and deceit, of unsuccessful or successful war, might never reach me more.

It is native personality, and that alone, that endows a man to stand before presidents or generals, or in any distinguished collection, with aplomb -and not culture, or any intellect whatever.

When Sherman’s armies, (long after they left Atlanta,) were marching through South and North Carolina—after leaving Savannah, the news of Lee’s capitulation having been receiv’d—the men never mov’d a mile without from some part of the line sending up continued, inspiriting shouts. At intervals all day long sounded out the wild music of those peculiar army cries. They would be commenc’d by one regiment or brigade, immediately taken up by others, and at length whole corps and armies would join in these wild triumphant choruses. It was one of the characteristic expressions of the western troops, and became a habit, serving as a relief and outlet to the men—a vent for their feelings of victory, returning peace, &c. Morning, noon, and afternoon, spontaneous, for occasion or without occasion, these huge, strange cries, differing from any other, echoing through the open air for many a mile, expressing youth, joy, wildness, irrepressible strength, and the ideas of advance and conquest, sounded along the swamps and uplands of the South, floating to the skies. This exuberance continued till the armies arrived at Raleigh. There the news of the President’s murder was receiv’d. Then no more shouts or yells, for a week. All the marching was comparatively muffled. It was very significant—hardly a loud word or laugh in many of the regiments. A hush and silence pervaded all.

All her youth is gone, her beautiful youth outworn, daughter of tarn and tor, the moors that were once her home no longer know her step on the upland tracks forlorn where she was wont to roam.

One evening, when we were already resting on the floor of our hut, dead tired, soup bowls in hand, a fellow prisoner rushed in and asked us to run out to the assembly grounds and see the wonderful sunset. Standing outside we saw sinister clouds glowing in the west and the whole sky alive with clouds of ever-changing shapes and colors, from steel blue to blood red. The desolate grey mud huts provided a sharp contrast, while the puddles on the muddy ground reflected the glowing sky. Then, after minutes of moving silence, one prisoner said to another, How beautiful the world could be.

The tongue like a sharp knife... Kills without drawing blood.

A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye. In the most high and palmy state of Rome, A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets; As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood, Disasters in the sun; and the moist star Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse. Hamlet Prince of Denmark (Horatio at I, i)

And my large kingdom for a little grave, a little little grave, an obscure grave. King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 3.

Coal-black is better than another hue in that it scorns to bear another hue; for all the water in the ocean can never turn the swan's black legs to white, although she lave them hourly in the flood.

I assure you, a tiger, or a venomous serpent could not rouse terror in me equal to that which he wakens.

The divine in man is our sole ground for believing that there is anything divine in the universe outside of man. Man is the revealer of the divine. At bottom, the world is to be interpreted in terms of joy, but of a joy that includes all the pain, includes it and transforms it and transcends it. The Light of the World is a light that is saturated with the darkness which it has overcome and transfigured.