“We stepped carefully, so softly, over thorny plants. The dust had turned to mud, splattering our shoes, socks, and legs. By the time we reached the boat, our clothes were clinging to our flesh and stained with the bloody remains of mosquitoes.”

“As we walk our individual life journeys, we pick up resentments and hurts, which attach themselves to our souls like burrs clinging to a hiker's socks. These stowaways may seem insignificant at first, but, over time, if we do not occasionally stop and shake them free, the accumulation becomes a burden to our souls.”

“The dripping blood our only drink,The bloody flesh our only food:In spite of which we like to thinkThat we are sound, substantial flesh and blood--Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good.”

“Stripped of our clothes we are all naked, exposed to different human experiences. Stripped of our flesh, to the bone, we are the same.”

“When it's all over and the dust from our Ancestors bodies and our own settle from the four winds only then will we see that we were here!”

“Our shoes carry our body, so we polish them; our body carries our soul, so we clean the body, but, what about our soul”?”