What I know are simple truths. I know that the fabric of memory is reinforced by stories, rent by silences. I know that power dreads memory. I know that memory outlasts power's viciousness. I know . . . that a voiceless man is as good as dead.

Americans can't stand any stranger looking them in the face. They take it as an insult. It's something they don't forgive. And every American carries a gun. If they catch you, a stranger, looking them in the face, they will shoot.

that we die, our very humanity slayed, whenever we choose to remain silent in the face of tyranny.

Remember this: a story that must be told never forgives silence. Speech is the mouth's debt to a story.

A story that must be told never forgives silence.

In a society where people are obsessed with personal space, dogs have come to serve as welcome, neo-human mediators of loneliness and solitude.

Winter, I wrote, was akin to living inside a refrigerator.

wash off the journey