capra-stiffs

September 7, 2024

I would sing the songs of the working stiffs, of the short-changed Joes, the born poor, the afflicted. I would gamble with the long-shot players who light candles in the wind, and resent with the pushed-around because of race or birth. Above all, I would fight for their causes on the screens of the world.

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Thought:

“The words by this time didn’t matter. Everyone was full, and at that point of fatigue when the careful enunciation of any word or group of words will load it or them with a rocking pile of meaning which everyone stands round with baited breath hoping to catch.“

Bernard Share | Inish

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