There were always babies at the bus station and they were always crying. And these were not mild complaints. I couldnt understand how the least discomfort could take the form of agony. No other creature was so sensitive. The more I thought about it the clearer it became to me that what I was hearing was rage…
The rage of children seemed inexplicable other than as a breach of some deep and innate covenant having to do with how the world should be and wasnt. I understood that their raw exposure to the world was the world.
You dont think this is all a bit fanciful?
I do think.
How would a child know how the world should be?
A child would have to be born so. A sense of justice is common to the world. All mammals certainly. A dog knows perfectly well what is fair and what is not. He didnt learn it. He came with it.
—from Stella Maris by Cormac McCarthy
You're gonna wonder why As you wander on your way The unfairness of the world Will make a body rage
Don't be scared of words Watch out for stones and sticks You won't get blown away When you build your thoughts with bricks
Perpetual injustice Is an insult to the soul Evil is eternal Resistance makes us whole
A thousand paths before us So many ways to live It's a wicked wicked world When we forget how to forgive
Laughter hope sock in the eye's Blog 