How Beautiful We Were

Despite comporting ourselves for decades, despite never resorting to beastly deeds, we hadn’t succeeded in persuading our tormentors that we were people who deserve of the privilege of living our lives as we wished.

Someday, when you’re old, you’ll see that the ones who came to kill us and the ones who’ll run to save us are the same. No matter their pretenses, they all arrive here believing they have the power to take from us or give to us whatever will satisfy their endless wants.

listening is far more enjoyable than fighting to be heard.

a man’s anger is often no more than a safe haven for his cowardice.

But my father used to say we can’t do only what we’re at ease with, we must do what we ought to do.

You know what I'm realizing? he said. Living is painful. That's why we so often forget that we're dying, we're too busy catering to our pains. I think it's one of nature's tricks--it needs us to not dwell on the fact that we're dying, otherwise we'd spend our days eating low-hanging fruits from trees and splashing around in clear rivers and laughing while our pointless lives pass us by.

A smile that does not originate from my heart hurts my mouth,

Humans are mortal and so are the systems they build

on all sides the dead were too many—on the side of the vanquished, on the side of the victors, on the side of those who’d never chosen sides. What good were sides? Who could ever hail themselves triumphant while they still lived? Perhaps someday, I added, after all the dead have been counted, there will be one number for the living to ponder, though the number will never tell the full story of what has been lost. —

He wants the world re-created too, but not in the way we seek to do it. He believes in dialogue, in people sharing their stories, hearing others’ stories, enemies gaining new perspectives on each other. I’m tempted to laugh at his naïveté in thinking stories alone can do that.

I want to give the children simple things. Clean water. Clean air. Clean food. Let them soil it if they like it dirty—how dare anyone refuse them this right?

She had the fortitude of the sun—no matter how dark and thick the clouds, she was confident she could melt them and emerge in full glory.

At times like these, we thought little of how many years of waiting still lay ahead; we thought mostly of how blessed we were, what boundless promise life bore. Such moments reminded us that, no matter how long the night, morning always comes.

But if I were to spend ten thousand years worrying about all that could happen to them, what difference would it make?

... if everyone only did what they ought to do, who would do the things no one thought they had to do? What did enjoyment have to do with duty?

How is it that their government, which is supposed to be their servant, is acting as their master?

Our grandfathers, however, had no interest in losing ownership of their lives—every one of them had turned down Pexton’s offer and returned to the thrill of killing for food as trees were felled all over the valley to make room for the oil field and pipelines and Gardens.

Looking at Woja Beki’s face, I wonder why he was ever born, considering there’s an infinite host of unborn begging to be born, considering most of the unborn would be decent people if given a chance at life. Why does the Spirit keep on cursing the world with the existence of the likes of Woja Beki?

Looking at Woja Beki's face, I wonder why he was ever born, considering there's an infinite host of unborn begging to be born, considering most of the unborn would be decent people if given a chance at life. Why does the Spirit keep on cursing the world with the existence of the likes of Woja Beki?

we can't do only what we're at ease with, we must do what we ought to do.

there's no better place to feel as if you belong, and yet terribly alone, than New York.

A man's anger is often no more than a safe haven for his cowardice.

They believe in a Spirit in the sky when ours lives within them.

seeing her eyes aglow again was like stepping out of a smoky kitchen.

How could we respond to such drivel except with slaps?

I would have understood why you raved and yelled and insulted whenever you though someone wasn't rising up and saying what needed to be said, or doing what needed to be done.

Made him suffer for her honor. She sewed up his lips so others would not speak ill of her for allowing him to tear apart the village with a vile tale.

Only with him did I come to realize how much noise there is in the world, and how marvelous it is not to be a part of it.

For the first time in over twenty years of life, he was happy. But he knew that he couldn’t remain in that village: a man belongs with his people, among those who share his ancestors, not with strangers, no matter how beautiful their land.