Edgar Allan Poe

I wish I could write as mysterious as a cat.

I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect, between the disaster and the atrocity.

The nose of a mob is its imagination. By this, at any time, it can be quietly led.

As the mother of a grown son with a traumatic brain injury, I couldn't be more excited about the prospect of finding out how to repair even a small part of the damage that changed his life.

Why do we cling to bigotry? Because bigotry, plainly, is convenient. It is a near-effortless way to both elevate one's stature and make a pity grab in this culture of victims that we have become.

Terrorists are not 100 feet tall. Nor do they deserve the abject fear they seek to instill.