Most mornings I would be more or less insane, /
Fragments I find myself returning to:
At the trial of God, we will ask: why did you allow all this?
And the answer will be an echo: why did you allow all this?— from A City Like a Guillotine Shivers on Its Way to the Neck in Deaf Republic by Ilya Kaminsky
morally speaking, there is no limit to the concern one must feel for the suffering of human beings
I’ve seen these deserted shores of justice before
— Iya Kiva; translated from the Ukrainian by Amelia Glaser and Yuliya Ilchuk
I began by saying that one of the paradoxes of education was that precisely at the point when you begin to develop a conscience, you must find yourself at war with your society.
Please remain calm, or we can’t be held responsible
for what happens to you.
— from We Are Not Responsible by Harryette Mullen
Attribution
I lived in the first century of world wars.
Most mornings I would be more or less insane,
The newspapers would arrive with their careless stories,
The news would pour out of various devices
Interrupted by attempts to sell products to the unseen.
— from Poem (I lived in the first century of world wars) by Muriel Rukeyser