Who, who, who are you

Who a person is depends on how we look at him.

If we see an important person then everything he says takes on meaning, important meaning.

But if we see a fool, then nothing he says makes any sense.

The most frightening thing in the world is that people see things differently.

One man's hero is another's villain and chances are pretty good that men are both sides are willing to kill, or die, to promote that vision.

Our mothers see the good in us. To them we are always the seven year old child wanting to do good.

Other people are often not so kind, or so blind to what the world has beaten into us. Our nooks and cranny carry a lot of residue in them, blinding everyone to the truth.

Very few people are as good, or bad, brilliant, or slow as we see them. We are not archetypes painted in triptychs for contemplation. We are people on good and bad days, facing problems no one else knows about and willing to do more than any one dreams possible for things we care about.

Looking. Seeing. Caring. So many variables.