When I get home I shiver. The only way I can control it is to wrap myself in a blanket. It is already late before I feel warm and at peace. I never sleep an entire night. I always get up for a few hours, but that time is precious to me.
Life seems tolerable then.
The moan of the March wind, winter s dying gasp. The staccato of March rain, winter s death rattle. I walk through the university, and I think of a hundred classrooms where people are struggling against ignorance. Then I think of people who come out of those classrooms and rise to positions of authority in the world. I shudder to think that some of them have less real understanding than workers who never finished high school.