This thing I am feeling, I’m almost certain, is the closest I’ll ever come to standing somewhere in between truth and reconciliation.

Individually, every grain of sand brushing against my hands represents a story, an experience, and a block for me to build upon for the next generation.

Globalization by the way of McDonald’s and KFC has captured the hearts, the minds, and from what I can see through the window, the growing bellies of the folks here.

Foisting an identity on people rather than allowing them the freedom and space to create their own is shady.

The truth is usually left for us to hunt and gather independently, if we are so inclined.

Are Latino-Americans white? Black? Other? Illegal aliens from Mars? Or are we the very face of America?

I have never bought into the idea that blood is thicker than water. Love and respect are meant to be earned from our children, our spouses, our families, and our friends.

When we illuminate the road back to our ancestors, they have a way of reaching out, of manifesting themselves...sometimes even physically.

Even the juncture in history and the zeitgeist we live in is something we choose, setting the scene for the spiritual fodder we need to grow and achieve deeper elevation of our souls.

While America will always, I think, feel foreign to me, New York City is my home. This is where I can construct my own identity freely and reject labels imposed on me.

For some, excavating the past isn’t an adventure, it’s more akin to tearing a Band-Aid off an open wound.

You taught me to love the dark, Aidan. If that 's wrong, then I'm already damned.

Service is the rent we pay for the life we have been given.

Plenty poisoned minds of the people are ours. Slaves, from mental death.

I never had a Christmass at home for about 10 years.

The world is a wheel. When we rise or fall, we do it together.

Can we please rename The Sandy Relief Bill to the Supplemental Iraq War Funding Bill so the GOP Congress can vote for it?

The more sensible a woman is, supposing her not to be masculine, the more attractive she is in her proportionate power to entertain.

I'm happy to be alive, I'm happy to be who I am.

When you put on a clown suit and a rubber nose, nobody has any idea what you look like inside.

Was it worse for him, Reynie wondered, to have felt loved and then rejected? Or was it worse to have always felt alone?