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Michael J. Sandel

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“There is a definite linkage between the Humanist legacy and the vernacular movement, in the sense that those scholars who did most to preserve the prestige of Buchanan as a classic text for Latin classes in Scotland were also the same men who did most to encourage the idea of the Scottish tongue as being as suitable as a vehicle for classic poetry as any other modern language.”

“On the ferry back from Büyükada the setting sun’s soft rays scarcely light the faces of my fellow weary travellers sons joke with their fathers daughters sleep on mothers’ laps friends play faded playing cards with an envelope for the missing jack here a toddler’s hand under his chin like a scholar there a family roars with laughter eating sunflower seeds from a pink plastic bag we breathe the crisp marmara sea together suddenly i loved you despite your carnival of violence i love you Humanity! with all your many ifs and your many thens”

“I long to get away, sometimes, from my own generation. I don't care whether it's into the past, or into the future, so long as it's away from the patter into simple realities again. I hate being a slave to my own age. ... We are so afraid of sentimentality that we're losing the power of human feeling. Our writers today understand all the brutalities and cynicisms; but how many of them understand the simple human affections that hold decent human beings together and make the world worth living in?”

“contiguous, adj. I felt silly for even mentioning it, but once I did, I knew I had to explain. "When I was a kid, "I had this puzzle with all fifty states on it--you know, the kind where you have to fit them all together. And one day I got it in my head that California and Nevada were in love. I told my mom, and she had no idea what I was talking about. I ran and got those two pieces and showed it to her--California and Nevada, completely in love. So a lot of the time when we're like this"--my ankles against the backs of your ankles, my knees fitting into the backs of your knees, my thighs on the backs of your legs, my stomach against your back, my chin folding into your neck--"I can't help but think about California and Nevada, and how we're a lot like them. If someone were drawing us from above as a map. that's what we'd look like; that's how we are." For a moment, you were quiet. And then you nestled in and whispered. "Contiguous." And I knew you understood.”

“Letter to My Soldiers I am only the beginning - the beginning of a new kind of humans - humans who belong to not one culture, but many cultures - humans who speak not one language, but many languages - humans who study scriptures and science with equal enthusiasm, yet pledge allegiance to neither, and know how to use both in the benefit of humanity - humans who aim for neither belief nor disbelief, but warmth and understanding - humans who are more concerned with the real hard problem of inhumanity, than the outdated hard problem of consciousness - humans who sacrifice their life treating the real hard question of hate, rather than the mythical hard question of god. I am only the beginning - the first spark, if you may - the best are yet to come.”