He Felt As If He

If You Know Anything About Islamic Civilization, Or About The Contemporary Middle East, About The Sociology And The Anthropology Of The People Who Live There, And Their Recent History, And Their Religion, And Their Motivation And Everything, Then You Realize That Changing Iraq Into A Democracy Is Not Going To Happen. It's Just Not Going To Happen.

Perhaps Passing Through The Gates Of Death Is Like Passing Quietly Through The Gate In A Pasture Fence. On The Other Side, You Keep Walking, Without The Need To Look Back. No Shock, No Drama, Just The Lifting Of A Plank Or Two In A Simple Wooden Gate In A Clearing. Neither Pain, Nor Floods Of Light, Nor Great Voices, But Just The Silent Crossing Of A Meadow.

And If You Were A Spirit, And Time Did Not Bind You, And Patience And Love Were All You Knew, Then There You Would Wait For Someone To Return, And The Story To Unfold.

Particularly As A Jew, I Don't Like Missionary Work. I've Had It Focused On Me, And I Don't Like It. Let People Be What They Want To Be.

[when] He's Here, He's Always Reading. He Says Books Stop Time. I Myself Think He's Crazy...don't Tell Anyone, But When He Reads Something That He Likes He Gets Real Happy, Turns On The Music, And Dances By Himself, Or With A Broom Sometimes.