I have spent half my life trying to find nice ways to say things and the other half apologizing for failed experiments.
We do not want our lovers to tell us that we fumble but sympathize that maybe it was a bad night and we were just tired.
When donning a new outfit of clothing, we expect praise even if the duds make us look ridiculous or over-balloon our appearance.
We are sensitive, but not to spiritual things or each other, but instead to any form of criticism.
So the entire Earth tries to couch what it says and does until it doesn’t want to do couch anymore—and then the bombs begin to fly.
We live in a world that travels from discontent to bombings, never considering that there can be conversation free of lies, deception and exaggeration, which might keep the death toll down at Ground Zero.