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Quote by Ronnie Gilbert

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Ronnie Gilbert

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“When I was an activist in the 1980s, ninety-eight percent of my time was spent stuffing envelopes and writing addresses on them. The remaining two percent was the time we spent figuring out what to put in the envelopes. Today, we get those envelopes and stamps and address books for free. This is so fantastically, hugely different and weird that we haven’t even begun to feel the first tendrils of it.”

“[W]hat possible purpose does this lashing-out serve? Will activists be shamed into recovering their previous enthusiasm? Will Republicans stop their vicious attacks because Obama is lashing out to his left? It was pure self-indulgence; even if he feels aggrieved, he has to judge his words by their usefulness, not by his desire to vent. This isn't about him.”

“My friend says to me: But what can we do? Already giving up. To be aware is already something, I say. Consciousness rarely leaves us unmoved. Or unmoving. And so it is with this revelation of what has been happening to our children, all of them, and especially to our boys. The beast in so-called civilized man is more lethal, sinister, grotesque and cunning than I would have believed: And what is it, anyhow, this beast? How does it manifest in every age to plague our republic from shadows it projects as light?”

“Want to keep Christ in Christmas? Feed the hungry, clothe the naked, forgive the guilty, welcome the unwanted, care for the ill, love your enemies, and do unto others as you would have done unto you.”

“We do not wish harm or destruction on you,” said Yekini. “At least, not us three. But I’m not sure how we can help you in your quest. As you can see, we are incapacitated ourselves.” Understandable, said Omíwálé. But you must remember: it is fate that has brought us together, not me. Each one of us here has somehow tasked themselves with making our world better than it is—helping a people divided by time and tales come together. What are we if not called and chosen?”

“It would be nice to go back to caring about the moon. So many of my favorite authors care about the moon. So much of my favorite literature orients in the direction of beauty. But surely any true appreciation of beauty would admit, exclaim even, that no description of the moon, no matter how stunning, how true, reflects as much beauty back into the world as a missile obliterating a family in their home takes out of it.”