I have always wanted to midcourse-correct (or undermine) in a poem, and let that be the turn. That poem is to do with displacement, with almosts - even the rhymes are intentionally off.

I often think, no one wants to read this. No one wants to hear this. My own work makes me cringe sometimes, cringe in a "there's nothing I can do because it had to come out like this" kind of way.

I would like to say that I helped out our men in uniform, but the truth is I probably just grumbled at the noise.

With enough mental gymnastics, just about any fact can become misshapen in favor to one's confirmation bias.

The greatest purpose in life, the greatest achievement one could ever have in life, the greatest satisfaction one could ever get in life can only be found in the service of others.

Talent comes from education you had, languages you know and finally from skills you gain in your life.

I took Laura on a trip once where we followed the Immigrant Trail for about six hundred miles. She really learned a lesson. People forget too often how it was back then.

The responsible person seeks to make his whole life a response to the question and call of God.

Due process and judicial process are not one and the same, particularly when it comes to national security.

The Turks can be killed, but they can never be conquered.

The road does not always bring out the best in people.

There could be something incredibly grand and incomprehensible and beyond our present understanding.

Some evolutionists will protest that we are caricaturing their view of adaptation. After all, do they not admit genetic drift, allometry, and a variety of reasons for nonadaptive evolution?