“With how many things are we on the brink of becoming acquainted, if cowardice or carelessness did not restrain our inquiries.”

“How many things are we upon the brink of discovering if cowardice or carelessness did not restrain our inquiries”

“How many times did someone have to run in front of a machine gun before it became an act of cowardice?”

“Perhaps when we face our maker, we will not be asked, 'How many positions did you hold,' but rather, 'How many people did you help?”

“They are not brave, the days when we are twenty-one. They are full of little cowardices, little fears without foundation, and one is so easily bruised, so swiftly wounded, one falls to the first barbed word. To-day, wrapped in the complacent armour of approaching middle age, the infinitesimal pricks of day by day brush one but lightly and are soon forgotten, but then—how a careless word would linger, becoming a fiery stigma, and how a look, a glance over a shoulder, branded themselves as things eternal.”

“To be or not to be! Hamlet!! I beg to differ! How much more limiting could that question be? How much more restraining could it ever get? Do we only have two possible answers to a question? Do we only have two things to choose from? Are our options so restricted? Are we so grounded? Have we gone color blind? When did our retinas stop seeing the colors of a rainbow? Why do we print our experiences in duotone? In a game of multiple choice questions, how many answers could be correct? What number of choices do we have? Who gives us the options? When do we have to submit our selections? Who decides if we passed or failed?”