It seems to me curious, not to say obscene and thoroughly terrifying, that it could occur to an association of human beings drawn together through need and chance and for profit into a company, an organ of journalism, to pry intimately into the lives of an undefended and appallingly damaged group of human beings, an ignorant and helpless rural family, for the purpose of parading the nakedness, disadvantage and humiliation of these lives before another group of human beings, in the name of science, of
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Where the apple reddens never pry -- lest we lose our Edens, Eve and I.
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A beggar had been sitting by the side of the road for over thirty years. One day a stranger walked by. Spare some change? mumbled the beggar, mechanically holding out his baseball cap. I have nothing to give you, said the stranger. Then he added, What's that you are sitting on? Nothing, replied the beggar, Just an old box. I have been sitting on it for as long as I can remember. Ever look inside? asked the stranger. What's the point? There's nothing in there. Have a look inside, insisted the stranger. The beggar managed to pry open the lid. With astonishment, disbelief, and elation, he saw the box was filled with gold.
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Where there is a will, there is a way. If there is a chance in a million that you can do something, anything, to keep what you want from ending, do it. Pry the door open or, if need be, wedge your foot in that door and keep it open.
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What is not nailed down is mine. Anything that I can pry loose was not nailed down.
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